The Ragged Edges
by Staffen
Summary: After decades as a Schola Progenium instructor following an embarassingly short and infamous career, Commissar Conrad Raege is called to service under the Inquisition, and is tasked with saving Sector Calixis from threats within the Imperium, and without.
1. Prologue

**/FILE INFORMATION\  
++++FILE NAME - "Recovered Video Log: Altyracivus Disaster, M41, VOLUME XIX"++++  
++++ARCHIVED BY - Milena Sonas, INQUISITOR, ORDO XENOS++++  
++++ARCHIVAL DATE - 6 125 818.M41++++  
++++FILE TYPE - Pict recording (Recording length: 2 Minutes, 22 seconds.)++++  
++++ADDITIONAL NOTES - File transmitted from Inquisitorial Storm trooper Erik Litterk, Presumed KIA. Recovered from Strike Cruiser **_**Malleus Benedicto**_** records after incident.++++  
++++SECURITY LEVEL - INQUISITORIAL VIEWAGE ONLY.++++  
VIEWER SECURITY PASSCODE - ***************  
Welcome, Inquisitor.**

The screen became black as the file buffered; after a few moments, it turned green again, and then the pict began playing.  
It was being recorded from a camera mounted to a soldier's helmet - it shook and blurred with each step the Guardsman took, until he came to a complete stop. It shook again, as he looked around. There was an unusual dark tint to the video, and the edges of the screen had faded black.  
"Captain? Captain?"  
The voice was that of the soldier, Litterk.  
"Captain!"  
There was a deep, resounding grumble, like a warbled vox transmission. Litterk turned. Then, just as he stopped, he fell to the ground. The video began to warp and bend. The blackness at the edge of the picture began to edge outwards with the effect of the tentacles of a writhing monster, encroaching the rest of the screen, until it was all but consumed.  
"Onward, my child,"  
"Onward, to Kranenstaz."


	2. Chapter 1

**I  
THE GATHERING**

_"Tales are told of the heroic, they who do the greatest in His name. Come forth, my brothers, for this is where your tale begins."  
-Opening to "The Devotion of Steel", Chaplain Morian_

The Aquila's engines screamed with the full fury of a beast as it flew over the countryside. It slowed on the approach to Port Seelen, allowing for the servitors to pass handshake codes to the port security. It came to a halt over its designated pad, deploying its legs as it lowered down. With a bump, it landed. The passenger bay slid down out of the jet black hull, pressurized air hissing as it was vented. A full detachment of Inquisitorial storm troopers, as well as the port's chief of security, had gathered to greet the passengers. As the bay door rose, they folded their hands to their chests in the symbol of the Imperial Aquila. Out of the craft stepped Ordo Xenos Inquisitor Tobias Levy, who returned the greetings, and then, with his arms folded behind his back, he began to speak to the chief of security about the matter of transportation to their next destination. Following him out of the lander were his scribes, savants and assorted acolytes. Once they had left, the storm troopers went close behind.  
Last out of the passenger bay, was Commissar Conrad F. Raege, carrying a large case. Her departure went completely unnoticed as she stayed behind to assist the Aquila's crew in connecting the fuel lines, then went along to catch up with the Inquisitor.

The staff car rolled quietly down the path, in stark contrast to the noise that the lander they had only earlier been aboard produced. The only traffic it came across was a few crop harvesters moving from field-to-field. At one point they had to stop completely to wait for a herd of grox to pass.  
For the duration of the entire ride, as Inquisitor Levy observed, Commissar Raege had not spoken, instead opting to enjoy the view provided of the country. Tyanmar was famous for its lush farm fields, and they were protected under law from any sort of industrial pollution. It was said that, long ago, Saint Brophus had decreed that the land was to remain untouched by the forge, that its vast plains were meant to bear the agriculture of the Imperium, nothing more. It was no surprise that someone would appreciate them, but Levy had always been under the impression that the Commissar was a brutally simple woman. Simple, but effective. Indeed, she was effective. Her record proved that much.  
"So then…" Levy spoke up. Raege, her head resting on the palm of her hand, eyed him. "How was Heterodyne for you?"  
"Comfy, quiet." Raege answered. _Simple, but effective._ "But I admit, I was getting restless."  
"The old warrior couldn't just relax?" Levy mocked, grinning. Raege didn't respond.  
"You know, for sure, that I selected you for this job because of your own experience with leadership. Even back when you yourself were a student of the Commissariat, you showed prodigious abilities. I'm impressed by your grade of work." The Inquisitor said, holding up a large file: Raege's dossier.  
"And the incident with the Boomslangs doesn't bother you at all?"  
"You mean your little mass-execution?" Levy cocked his head. "Frankly, it does nothing less than impress me. I need a Commissar with your willingness to carry out duties... As well as your fervor. Honestly, after reading the reports, I supported your decision."  
Raege looked back out the window. "You couldn't have just landed at Port Cynar?" She asked, changing the subject. "It would have saved us the time of this drive."  
"Yes, well, the Port was overfilled today. I didn't want to burden the staff."  
"But you could have."  
"But I didn't."  
Raege sighed. She suspected this wouldn't be the only time she'd question his methods.

About three hours later, Levy's vehicle pulled into Port Cynar.  
Port Cynar and Port Seelen were part of a grid of space ports and starship grav docks in the northern hemisphere of Tyanmar. They were vital to the local agriculture, shipping the labor fruits of the local farmers. These were the only exception to Saint Brophus' decree. Port Cynar itself was a relatively large one, being big enough to contain a single starship, as well as a few squadrons of air-to-space freights.  
A vast majority of the space ports were privately operated. Port Cynar was owned by the Ferandr Trade Guild. Members were allowed to use the port to ship goods, but there were the occasions where it was closed for something such as remodeling.  
In reality, Port Cynar was the property of the Inquisition; the trade guild nonsense was a facade. These "closings" were often due to the arrival of a guest of the Inquisition.  
The Ferandr Trade Guild did actually operate, but all of its work was conducted under the watchful shadow administration of the Ordos.  
As Raege stepped out of the staff car, she noted that they were the only ones present at the port. Levy got out of the car from the opposite side.  
She glared at him.  
He chuckled nervously.

When the Commissar and the Inquisitor entered, they were greeted by Cynar's staff head. While Levy spent a moment to talk to him, a servitor rolled up to Raege. "Ma'am, would you like for me to carry your baggage?" It asked.  
Raege was slow to respond, having been looking at the port's interior from where she stood. "Hm?" She finally looked to the servitor, then to her case. Heavy as it was, she'd forgotten about it. "No, no. Thank you." She said, hefting it up. "No offense, I'd rather nobody else carried it."  
The servitor shrugged, and then wheeled away to ask one of the Inquisitor's acolytes the same question.  
"Right, then!" Levy clasped his hands together, producing a clap that echoed throughout the spacious hall. "Everything's ready. They're all assembled and awaiting us out at the grav-dock." He gestured past the long expanse of the main hall. "Shall we, Commissar?"  
Raege nodded. She began to walk with the inquisitor, carrying her luggage over her left shoulder. For a moment, everything was silent, the only noticeable noise being the click of Raege's steel boot heels.  
"So then, Sir, you never did tell me..." She spoke up.  
"Told you what, Commissar?" Levy looked to Raege.  
"How many men I'll be working with?" She asked.  
"Yes, well..." Levy coughed. "You see, you'll be gathering up more men as you work under me..."  
"How many?" She repeated. "How many will I be working with at the start?"  
"... Fifty."  
"Fifty."  
"Fifty."  
Raege stopped, and stared at Levy. "Only fifty soldiers?"  
"I'm... Afraid so."  
Raege groaned. With her free hand, she rubbed at her eyelids. "Okay," She said. "I certainly hope you don't intend to put us to work against anything bigger than a few hundred men."  
"Don't worry." Levy assured her, waving his hand as he opened the door to the grav dock passage. Whereas the main hall had been immaculately constructed of polished stone, the passageways took on a cramped, mechanical feel, with the metal walls, lined with piping and jutting support beams.

About ten minutes of navigating through the halls later, the Inquisitor and the Commissar arrived at the grav dock's loading bay. At the far end was the access ramp to the _Rapidheart_. It was an old merchant vessel of the Xander class. After the ship class had been made obsolete by the newer Runx class, they began to slowly work themselves apart until they were no longer able to operate. The _Rapidheart_ was one of the few still-running Xander class bulk cargo vessels still running in the Segmentum Obscurus, and Inquisitor Levy chose it because its trade routes were no longer vital. Besides that, he'd also made use of it for the transport of precious cargo before, and he had come to trust the crew.  
At the center of the loading bay, standing at attention, was the fifty soldiers that comprised Raege's new force, in 5 rows of 10 men each.  
Raege took a moment to look them over, walking up and down the first row. They were a mixed bunch. The vast majority of them were still wearing their Guard uniforms, which demonstrated the vast range of planets represented. How Levy had ever managed to gather them all together, with special attention paid to variety, was beyond her.  
At the end of the first row of guardsmen, was a woman, dressed in Cadian Kasrkin officer fatigues and carrying a hellgun strapped over her shoulder. She saluted as Raege stopped before her. "Sir! Major Zune Lockwood, formerly devoted to the security of Kasr Sorn!" The woman barked. "Honored Inquisitor Tobias Levy has reassigned me as the leader of this unit!" Very commanding tone, Raege noted.  
"I'm honored to work with a Kasrkin. It'll be good to have you." Raege said to the Major. She stepped back until she was in line with the middle of the rows, and then cleared her throat.  
"At ease, all of you." She ordered. The entire platoon relaxed. Raege began to walk again, her eyes passing from guardsman to guardsman. "Men and women of the Imperial Guard, I am Commissar Conrad Raege. For a decade I taught at the Schola Progenium of Heterodyne. I have yearned to lead from the frontline again, and now, the Emperor has provided me the chance to do so once more. I am grateful to be given this opportunity, to lead you into His service. I thank all of you for making this possible."  
Levy stepped forward, and tapped Raege on the shoulder. "I'm impressed, did you come up with that right then and there?" He whispered, jokingly. "Anyway, get everyone aboard. The _Rapidheart_ will be ready to go within a few hours. Once I'm on my own ship, you'll receive your next orders."  
"Understood." Raege said plainly.  
"What happened to the attitude?" The Inquisitor grinned. "I'll be leaving now. Good day, Commissar!" He turned, waved back at Raege, then walked off back down the halls.  
Raege looked back to the 50 guardsmen that stood before her. She sighed, and adjusted her cap.  
Back to the battlefield.

As the troops got settled in their temporary quarters, Raege made it a point to inspect the individual troopers. She now counted, amongst this platoon, at least ten different regimental styles. A good majority of them were either Cadian or from planets that used Cadian-issue equipment, but besides that, Raege had already counted a fine pallet of planets:  
Praetoria, Krieg, Drook VI, Valhalla, Armageddon, Catachan, Vostroya...  
So many different planets, so many different teachings, so many different abilities. So many different cultures. It was her experience that having this many different groups together proved caustic.  
How she ever would manage to get them to cooperate was beyond her. Perhaps their small numbers would help to discourage them from picking each-other apart?  
She sat down in her quarters, a vacant and modest crew cabin, took off her cap, and ran a hand over the top of her head.  
Her suitcase now lay open at the edge of her bunk. She'd placed its contents on the desk opposite the bed. Holos and papers, her autopistol and ammunition, her power fist and its energy pack. The power fist was a cherished gift from her days at the Schola Progenium on Heterodyne. She'd obtained it from the arms master, when he decided he didn't approve of her using a simple knife. The only time she'd ever used it was in disciplining the schola students, and even then, she'd never activated the electrical field that made them so horrific.  
Major Lockwood, who was to sleep in the bunk above Raege, had disappeared to the ship's cafeterium, leaving Raege to herself. Raege lifted up the power fist, the item that had made up the bulk of her luggage's weight, and then slipped it onto her shoulder. She was strong enough to wield it and flex it without the assistance of the power supply, but the fingers gave her too much trouble.  
She stared at it for a moment, thinking about how it would finally see actual fighting, until a knock at the cabin door broke her spell.  
"Commissar Raege? I have a message from Inquisitor Tobias Levy for you." Came a voice from behind the door. Her assignment at last!  
She slipped the heavy gauntlet off of her arm, stowed it, then went and opened the door. Standing at the other end was a crewmember, one of the captain's officers, judging from his dress.  
"Go on." Raege ordered.  
"The Inquisitor told us to give this to you once everything was ready. We'll be taking off in about a half-hour, so we suppose that gives you enough time to look into this." He said, handing her a dataslate with a password-guarded encryption. Her hopes had dropped slightly, but Raege still took it from him. She thumbed her Munitorum security code in, and then read the message that appeared for her:  
_"Commissar Raege,  
No doubt by now you are comfy aboard the ship. I have a special little gift for you.  
It's being kept in the lower holds. Should be rather obvious. The front of the container is marked with a big red X. The security panel on its front and on the 'interior' panel is programmed to open only upon receiving your Munitorum code. That, and an Inquisitor's rosette, of course.  
Hope you enjoy it. Be sure to open it up before you embark.  
- Levy"_  
Raege looked up at the officer. "Do you know how I can get to the lower holds?"  
"Yes, Commissar, there's a service lift that will take you down there at the end of the hall on your left." The officer pointed off to his right. Raege gave him her thanks, dismissed him, and left.

The lower holds of the _Rapidheart_ were primarily used for the storage of the more dangerous cargo, such as explosives. The logic was that since the holds were so far away from any vital parts of the ship that they would be a safe place to put weapons and the like.  
At that moment, when Raege stepped out of the lift, the only light source in the hold was the lift's lights. A flash torch sat in an indentation in the side of the wall immediately outside the lift. Raege took it. She noticed she'd been almost too hasty in doing so. It was strange, she had a very odd sense about her now, as though she were afraid of the storage space. The darkness must have had a more profound effect on her than she initially thought.  
She stepped out, shining the flash torch on various bulk crates. That feeling Raege had when she'd first arrived got stronger and stronger as she walked down the line of cargo. It was getting difficult to shrug off.  
At the far end of the hold, was the container Levy had mentioned in the note, with a large red X across the face of it, and a security panel at hand's level on the exterior. She gulped as the sense now became nearly painful. She keyed in her pass code, and stepped back. The X parted, allowing shafts of a bright blue light to shine through.  
Raege nearly dropped the flash torch.  
She was looking into a stasis field. Within it, slumbered the form of a woman in a black body glove. A number of augmetic cables lined her muscular form, and in tucked beneath her folded arms was a skull mask with a large cranium, and various cables and equipment pieces attached to it.  
Raege had only seen this on a few occasions, and she had never begun to imagine the effect it would have.  
She was staring at an Imperial Assassin, of the Culexus temple.  
Her fingers now trembling, she moved to the monitor panel on the side of it. She put in her Munitorum pass code, and then, deactivated the field. The assassin began to stir in her cradle, then the field around her faltered. The assassin rose to her feet, and put on the skull mask. Sweat now ran down Raege's face.  
"Imperial servant of the Culexus Temple, designation: ." It said, as if it were a program. "No immediate objectives. Current assignment is to provide assistance to Inquisitor Tobias Levy's task force, and to follow the orders of Commissar Conrad F. Raege." It looked down at Raege. "Good afternoon, Commissar."  
"G-good afternoon." Raege greeted back. Her tone was as strong as ever, but her concentration was severely impaired by the aura this being put out. She knew slightly more than the average Imperial citizen did: They were psychic untouchables of an unspeakably powerful nature, and therefore were wonderfully amazing tools against the forces of the Warp. "S-servant of His Grace, I want y-you to be addressed by a... A... Simpler... Name. Do you have any alternate designations?" She asked.  
"Negative, not at the current time." The assassin responded. "I was, however, once in the employ of an Inquisitor who referred to me as 'Nada'. Will that suffice?"  
"Yes." Raege nodded.  
"What do you require of me, Commissar Raege?" Nada asked.  
"Nothing." Raege answered. "You are not... Not currently needed. I simply wanted to become familiar with... You. You may now re... Return to sleep."  
"Understood." Nada took off the mask, eyes closed, and then lied back down. "Now prepared for stasis containment. You may activate the field.  
Raege pressed the monitor panel again, and the field reactivated. The bright blue light came again, and Nada had fallen asleep.  
Raege closed the container, and stormed out. This was quite the surprise Levy had thrown at her, and while indeed, Nada would likely prove useful in some cases, Raege was still furious at the Inquisitor for not telling her beforehand.  
The thought came to mind that this wouldn't be the last time such an incident occurred. Levy, the ass he was, seemed to have a sense of humor to him.  
She just hoped next time it would be something less painful than an Untouchable.


	3. Chapter 2

**II  
FOR WHOM THE WIND BLOWS**  
_"Look to the crying skies for me, as it is there I will reside."  
- General Militant Alteans Zephryn, prior to his death._

As it so happened, Inquisitor Levy's orders were to expand. Because he realized that Raege would have little idea how to begin doing that, he directed her towards the nearest battle.  
That so happened to be the world of Matrinar, out near the rim of the Halo Stars. The journey took the better part of a month. Levy had instructed Raege to pick up any guardsmen that were clearly abandoned. The _Rapidheart_ was equipped well enough to provide for a large influx of wounded as well. With these instructions, Raege set out.  
As soon as the _Rapidheart_ had entered the Imperial Navy's safe zone, Raege set out aboard a bulk freight lifter. From there, she and her unit shuttled to the nearest fight.

Matrinar was a hive world. Rather, it had been at one point. A decade ago, the arch-heretic Rymen Valendr, the Dread-Master hypnotized a great portion of the populace into a mass-rebellion. It was the typical story of a world's corruption, the planet's manufactorums were seized and re-equipped to churn out the most insidious war engines and weapons they'd ever produce. Those loyal to the Emperor resisted his grip, but ultimately were stamped out. Two months after Rymen Valendr had obtained Matrinar, the Imperial Guard finally smashed into the world. By that point, however, the Dread-Master had dug in, and refused to let go. Due to a number of miscalculations and serious misdirection, the Guard bumbled along in the conflict for nearly 9 years, in the mean-time Rymen Valendr managed to bring reinforcements to his call from deep within the Halo Stars. Finally, after 10 years of this, progress was being made, and slowly, the Dread-Lord was losing his hold.  
It was doubted Rymen Valendr even still remained on Matrinar. Most of the generals appointed to the conflict agreed that he had escaped to do damage elsewhere. Others, however argued that it was extremely unlikely he had removed himself from the battling. Regardless, the fighting continued, and that needed to be stopped.

Raege looked up at the silver statue of Lord Lovidus that dominated the square. It was massive, a tribute to the man that had guarded the planet long ago, and it was around this monument that Ministe City was built. The Lord's statue had long since become tarnished, to the point that the silver was nearly unrecognizable, replaced by an unnaturally deep black. The head was missing, blasted off by what seemed to be lascannon fire. The outstretched arms now were wrapped in darker scripts. Thrown dung stained much of the body. The disgusting servants of Chaos had defiled everything sacred to this world. It made the Commissar sick. She quickly looked away.  
In the distance, she could hear the faint sound of artillery pounding. This had been the site of fighting, only hours ago.  
She walked back to her squad, who sat vigilant in the burnt-out wreckage of an abandoned halftrack. The rest of her unit was spread out, searching the area. Lockwood had taken half the platoon closer to the active fighting, a kilometer off north, leaving Raege the other half in this district. By this point, she'd sent everyone off to rest, as this was the only area left.  
Raege ordered the squad's vox officer, a Cadian by the name of Joseph Firch, to call up the Major. A few moments later, there was a response. Raege took the boy's microbead.  
"You called, Commissar?"  
"Lockwood, report." Raege ordered.  
"Hey! Not so loud!" Lockwood sent back. "I sent everyone but my own squad back to the ops center. We're in a building off a ways to the east of you right now, looking for any wounded. Got a tip from a sergeant while visiting the rear line of the Guard, said that they'd been raiding these things like nuts before moving on. Seems the enemy liked to drop missiles on passing vehicles from behind windows. We suggest you do the same."  
"Understood. Call back if you find anyone. Raege out." The Commissar handed over the microbead to Firch, and looked around the square. She realized then that there was a large hole punched into the half-track wreck's front compartment. The angle corresponded with a row of broken windows in a building to her far right. The half-track her squad was in was on the opposite side of the road, and the building, the only one in the square that wasn't boarded up, was a good 25 meters distant from her.  
She ordered her squad out of the fast track and toward the ruined structure.

It had been an Administratum office at one point. A charred skeleton lay huddled over the front desk. The large Imperial Aquila that had once hung on the far wall now lay in shards on the floor. In its place on the wall, fitting improperly with the dusty imprint of the Aquila, was a crude tribute to the dark gods, made from assorted bones.  
Raege ignored it. She had other things to concern herself with.

Lockwood closed the door behind her. Still no sign of survivors, only corpses. Some weren't even those of Guardsmen, as it seemed to be the case in this building; the rooms she'd searched so far in the basement were all filled with rotted cadavers, and many of them had been skinned. Either way, the smell was overwhelmingly bad. She'd searched the entire area, and found nothing.  
As she walked over to the staircase leading back up to the top floors, where her squad was, she noticed something: Through space between each step, she could see a decorative rug, pushed aside as if in haste. Beyond the rug, there was a square patch the width of a man that did not match up with the rest of the flooring. It looked like a hatch, almost.  
Before she could investigate, there was a loud crash from the floor above her. She was suddenly aware of the sounds of las and autogunfire. She hurried up the stairs, and looked around. One of her squadmates, Kas Grin, was down on the floor with a bullet wound in his side, and the other two members, Kael Tornic, her vox officer, and Raffin Mar were firing blindly out what had been a window. Broken glass was spread across the floor, and Lockwood observed as projectiles zoomed through the opening. She hurried up to the top step, got on her elbows and knees, and crawled over to Kas. She rolled the moaning soldier over on his back, and then dragged him back into cover to the side of the windowsill, and applied pressure to Kas's wound.  
"Tornic!" She called over the noise. "Report! What have we got?"  
"At least ten different contacts, all firing from the other side of the street!" Kael Tornic replied. "Don't know if there's anything else!"  
"Call the Commissar on vox! Tell her we're pinned down a kilometer to her east!"  
"What?" Tornic hollered back, firing out at whatever was shooting with his lasgun, then crouching. Lockwood had a hard time hearing him herself, a new sound had deafened out most everything else.  
"I said," The Major yelled at the top of her lungs. "Call Raege on vox!" The noise was getting louder and louder… What was that? It sounded like a constant, mechanical screeching, and she recognized it from somewhere… But from where? Yes! She remembered it, from the military parades on Oseiri II, after the conquest! It was a…  
Lockwood dared look out of the window to see what was happening, her hellgun in her hands. What she saw brought only fear to her heart.  
A green Vulture gunship, hovering incredibly low in front of the building, with an eight-pointed star where the Aquila symbol should have been, was lowering into place in front of the building.  
"Shit!" She hissed, diving aside, as the gunship's nose-mounted heavy bolter began firing into the room, releasing a thunderous roar that registered over the sound of the gunship's jets. The massive rounds tore through walls and blew out the front side of the building. Tornic and Mar had managed to escape by following suit with Lockwood, who was had now bolted down the basement steps, with Grin over her back.  
"Come on!" She screamed to them, and although it was impossible to hear her, the two guardsmen understood and quickly followed.  
The Vulture began to fire again. The Major gave Grin to Mar for carrying, and went under the staircase to the hatch she'd seen before, praying it had been what she thought it was. She dug her fingers into the indentions on the sides of the cover. It was heavy. She struggled to pull it up, and once it was free from the hatch, she threw it aside, and looked down into it. It was dark, where it led. She pulled a small flash torch from one of her belt pouches, and pointed it down into the hole. It was a few meters deep, there was a bar ladder lining down the side of the shaft, and it seemed there was a larger space at the bottom.  
She looked to Tornic and Mar. She gestured for them to go down. Tornic went first, barely fitting with his vox equipment. Mar went down next, slowly and awkwardly while carrying Grin. She went down next, practically sliding down the tight walls to make it quick.  
The heretic gunship up above fired again with the heavy bolter. It hit the building's frame hard, and then continued to pound mercilessly, firing a frag missile into the mess to seal its fate. The circling, spinning warhead hit nearly dead-on, destroying the central support beam. With its work done, the Vulture rose up to a higher altitude to join its pack again.  
The building crumbled inwards, taking with it the two structures connected. The entire foundation collapsed under the massive weight.

Raege ordered her squad to search the building. Angela Neuehoff and her twin sister Eva Neuehoff, the two Krieg women, went up to the higher levels. The Commissar herself and Joseph Firch continued on through the main floor.  
The two passed by hall after hall of doorways to offices. Every door had been left standing wide open, and each office contained a now-skeletal demonstration of a different way to murder a person using fire and small explosives.  
At what had to be the last hallway, the path split in two; one a way to a kitchen, and the other a way to… Another hall. There was a steel bulkhead as well, but when the Commissar tried to open it, it was locked. There was no point in attempting to break in.  
Raege looked into the kitchen first. As she came in, she noted that a suit of flak body armor lay on the floor, torn at the breast. A helmet, a brown tunic and a pair of crew trousers, as well as various other articles of clothing were strewn about as well. She looked to the other end of the room. Surrounded by a bloody mess, a culled human, its gender no longer distinguishable, was hanging from the far wall, its belly pinned open. Raege looked away, nearly sick with her disgust now. The instant Firch walked in following after her, he immediately turned away with his hand over his mouth. He wasn't used to this sort of sight. He'd only been with his regiment for a few months when he found himself abandoned on the battlefields of Tsurini II. He'd been found by locals, and then decided it was his duty to report to the Munitorum as soon as possible. While he had been waiting for transfer back to his regiment, Levy came, plucked him up, and had it registered that he was KIA. Whatever they taught on Cadia, harsh as it was, just wasn't effective enough to help men endure the morbid sights that the Chaos zealots often produced.  
Odds were, the person hanging from the wall was just another Guardsman, stranded amongst their fallen fellows, that the Dread-Master's servants picked up. If Raege had only gotten there a few hours earlier…  
No. No. She didn't let herself think like that. There was nothing she could have done.  
As Raege stormed out, she noticed a pounding coming from the bulkhead. There was a commotion from the other side, and it sounded as if someone had just yelled. From where she stood, Raege watched as the reinforced steel tore open, following a loud _KRAK_. By now, Raege had her autopistol out, waiting to see what came up.  
"Who's there?" A woman peeked out. She looked to Raege, and then quickly disappeared back behind the breach, only to reappear, this time standing straight and tall.  
She was dressed in the blue outfit of a Mordian sergeant. Her purple hair was cropped short. A laspistol rested in its holster at her side, and a chainsword in its scabbard on the other. "Thank goodness!"  
"Identify yourself." Raege ordered. "Now."  
The woman clacked her boots together and saluted to Raege. "Sergeant Lara Minhelm, 342nd Mordian Regiment!" Another Mordian appeared from the doorway now as well. "This is Private Mik Branz, also 342nd Mordian. Permission to leave, Sir?"  
"Not granted, Sergeant." Raege replied, lowering her autopistol.  
"But sir! I must get to the front-line, immediately! I have information regarding close-by enemy movements that must reach the Guard elements in this region immediately!" Minhelm whined. "It cannot wait!"  
"Wait, wait a minute, enemy movements?" Raege looked at her. "What do you mean?"  
"My men were patrolling several kilometers to the east of here earlier during the initial building raids. We encountered heavy resistance early into our return about an hour ago..."  
Raege put her hand up suddenly. "Hang on." She said. Her microbead was producing noise as someone attempted to communicate with her.  
"Hostile contacts encountered on the seventh floor, appearing from further into building. Pressing forward while engaging."  
It was Angela, she and her sister up on the higher floors.  
"Negative, negative." Raege yelled, holding her hand to her earpiece. "Remain where you are. I've found some guardsmen. I'm coming up to assist you."  
"But Commissar! The -"  
"Stay where you are!" Raege nearly shouted.  
"But the heretics fester further in…"  
"Neuehoff! You and your sister stay put and keep yourselves protected!"  
"Ja. Understood, Commissar."  
"Who was that?" Sergeant Minhelm asked.  
"A couple of troops under my command." Raege answered. She was afraid something like this would happen. The Death Korps was trained to charge on in face of any threat. Admirable, yes, but the constant yearning to die fighting made them very impractical as well. The sisters would prove difficult to control. "Come, Sergeant. I need to go assist them. Firch, bring up Lockwood on comms, tell her we've got other business to take care of."  
"Understood." The vox officer responded.  
The group rushed down the hallways, all the while Joseph Firch attempted to bring up the Major over the vox. By the time they arrived back at the main entrance, Firch had made 10 different calls out to Lockwood; all of them went without response.  
The Commissar cursed. Had Zune been attacked as well? Was she alive?  
She couldn't linger on it. She hurried through the other doorway, and up the stairwell. Even from the bottom, she could hear clearly the distinctive bark of lasguns conflicting with the bang of autogunfire. She activated the electrical field of her power fist as she ran down the seventh floor corridors, the sounds of fighting drawing ever closer. She skidded to a halt at one last turn, and held up her autopistol. At the end of the path, she could see the bright red flash of lasfire against the wall on the right. "Angela, Eva!" She dared call out as she hurried ahead. The flashes and the barks continued, which she judged to be a good sign. A bullet hit the wall on the left, kicking up powdery plaster and leaving a hole where it had penetrated.  
"Here, Commissar! We are here!"  
Eva's voice, Raege realized.  
Raege hugged to the right wall, holding her autopistol at the ready. She stuck her head out, and immediately saw Angela Neuehoff around the corner, firing from behind an overturned steel desk. Eva was hiding behind a doorway. Light filtered in through the dirty windows that lined the left wall. The far end of the way was littered with corpses.  
A hostile appeared from the far end of the hall. He was clad in what appeared to be standard Cadian-issue body armor, re-painted a deep green and inscribed with unholy phrases. In his hands he carried a combat shotgun, and he clearly hadn't intended to fight at the distance he was from the Commissar and her team.  
Before Raege could even raise her autopistol to shoot at him, Angela picked his head off with a clean las round that tore through his neck. His head rolled across the floor, joining a stock of corpses that had piled up in the corner.  
"Angela, cease fire!" Raege ordered. "You must be running low on ammo by now!"  
The Krieg girl hesitated for a moment, then finally crouched back down and turned her back to the desk. While her skull mask conveyed no emotion, she must have been furious.  
The truth was, Angela Neuehoff wasn't even originally an infantrywoman. She'd been a tank commander in the 492 Krieg Armored. Her Macharius battle tank had been ruined on Villandr after artillery was launched against the same units she was attacking. Levy had taken her away afterwards. She'd requested her sister, Eva, in the 493 Infantry be brought as well, and Levy granted this request.  
Raege rushed through the doorway parallel to the one Eva was in. "Move up, Sergeant!" She called back to Minhelm and her fellow Mordian. The two stormed in, crouched as low as they could while keeping quick. The Sergeant got down on a knee, clutching her laspistol, and took aim, reading to shoot the next person that came through. Branz did the same. Another hostile appeared, this time carrying an autogun. Minhelm got a hit into the cultist's stomach, and Branz hit his left thigh. The attacker fell to the floor. Minhelm's next shot hit the now prone cultist in the top of his head. Firch moved up next, lasgun ready.  
Raege stepped out of the doorway, and pointing with her power fist, charged forward. Eva, Angela, Minhelm, Branz and Firch followed after.  
As Raege came to the end of the hall, another cultist appeared. The Commissar's power fist smashed into his left cheek, tearing his head off and turning it to ash as the electrical field crackled. She fired her autopistol into the group of cultists coming up around the corner at the far end of this corridor, killing another two and sending the others into cover.  
"Keep charging!" Raege yelled back at her squad. One of the cultists stuck his upper body out of cover, and shot at the Commissar with his autogun, though the shot was made too hasty, and he missed her completely. Raege fired back, but it was Eva who killed him when next he popped out, hitting his collar bone. The other one jumped out now, and took three shots from Raege's autopistol to the chest, and then a shot from Minhelm's laspistol brought him down.  
No other hostiles came after that.  
"Now then…" Raege turned to Minhelm, stowing the empty autopistol clip in her pocket and replacing it with a fresh one. "Explain. How did you get past all this?"  
"The sewers." The Mordian Sergeant answered. "The whole city's sewer system is accessible from the buildings here. A lot of the locals used them to escape from the Dread-Master back when the invasion began ten years ago."  
Raege looked down the end of the hallway. The attackers had been coming in from very far end, which turned left. They seemed to have been ready to perform a striking maneuver, she noted, as the last one that had been killed was carrying a missile launcher strapped over his back in addition to his shotgun.  
"I'm guessing these are the forces you spoke of earlier?" Raege asked, looking back at Minhelm again.  
"Yes, but there were many more."  
"How many, you think?"  
"A hundred, maybe more, judging from the number of points my unit was shot at from. A strike force that size could seriously disrupt artillery fire. They need to be stopped."  
Raege sighed. "Firch, can you bring up the Guard center on vox?"  
The Cadian shrugged. "Probably." He said simply. "We'd need to get up on top of the building for this type of equipment to actually send the signal out that far."  
"So be it." Raege said. "Come. Let's get that message out." With that, she moved past the Mordians and the rest of her squad, and began to walk back down the path to the stairwell. The others followed.

The door refused to open, so Raege kicked it down. The roof was covered with air conditioning and exhaust modules, creating a small parody of a city.  
The Commissar adjusted her cap as she stepped out, and while Firch began to tune the voxcaster, she walked over to the edge and looked out at the cityscape.  
The Administratum office they were on top of wasn't the tallest building of all, but was indeed the largest in the block, standing at least ten stories higher than the various habs and other structures. The buildings seemed to reach higher the farther they were from the silver statue of Lord Lovidus down below.  
The vox officer cursed in frustration, and Raege turned back to him. "How long will this take, Firch?" She called off to him.  
She could hear something new suddenly, like two pieces of metal screeching against one-another.  
"It should only take a few minutes to get it adjusted, Commissar." Firch answered. "It's being a bit troublesome, though."  
The sound was getting louder.  
"Well make it quick, there's no doubt we'll be heard trying to transmit."  
Louder and louder, Raege found it annoying. It seemed to be getting closer. In fact, now that she thought about it, it sounded like…  
Like a jet.  
"Got it! We've begun broadcasting!" Firch called, almost excitedly, which was surprising for his usually dull tone.  
Raege spun around. A green Vulture Gunship, wearing the eight-pointed star on its nose, jumped up from the street space. As it adjusted its position, Raege screamed for the others to duck, before going to ground herself. Although the powerful turbojet of the gunship made it impossible to hear her, the others saw the ship and scattered behind the air conditioning modules as the Vulture began to fire its heavy bolter. The rounds exploded on contact with the rockrete surface of the roof, punching holes into the ceiling below, spitting up dirt and dust and destroying the vox unit Firch had left behind as he went behind a large exhaust vent.  
This was very bad, the Raege realized. These were the gunships of the Skychildren, the Dread-Master's most favored of units. Stolen from an abandoned Navy facility in the Halo Stars, the gunships had devastated many unprepared forces during the early days of fighting on Matrinar. Once the Imperial Aircraft arrived, they went into hiding, being no match for fighters like the Lightnings and Thunderbolts.  
That would explain why they'd come up from below. They must have been moving to assist with a strike on the rear of the Guard advance, so they were flying low and slowly to avoid catching any attention. Yet they had to have only a few meters of movement space between the buildings. These were truly experienced pilots.  
Raege crawled along the edge. Seeing her on its thermal auspex, the vulture began firing at her with its autocannons, chipping away the rockrete above her. She winced as each round came closer and closer to hitting her.  
From behind cover, Minhelm watched as a second gunship appeared. She yelled at Branz to give her his last krak charge. It had a timed detonator, and they'd used several of them to get through heavy doors. It was only ever recommended to use them against enemy armor when it was possible to attach them, but that was clearly impossible. She intended to throw it, but the distance was too great.  
Desperate, she undid her dress tunic. Branz watched as she took it off, leaving herself in her undershirt. She held it out like a sling, then she set the timer on the charge for just over 10 seconds, and dropped it into the pouch she'd created. She hurried out of cover, spinning around a couple times to gain momentum, then launched the charge out of the cloth sling at the gunships. It bounced off the first one, which was now preparing to fire at her. Then the charge detonated, tearing off the right. Smoke-heavy flames sprayed out from the damaged engine, and the Vulture began to tilt, veering into the other one. The second's pilot tried to move away as he realized that his ally was about to crash into him, but instead, the damaged Vulture tore off the second one's right stabilizer. It flipped, then the two engines smashed into each-other, exploding spectacularly, sending bits of smoke-streaming metal into the air.  
Raege dashed for the door. She could still hear the scream of a jet engine, more Vultures were about. She called out to the others, who hurried to her.  
The smoke from the last two lingered until a third Vulture appeared, causing the cloud to dissipate. As it adjusted its angle to begin firing, Raege, the last to go back inside, was hurrying down the staircase to the main building.  
A frag missile fired from the gunship at the doorway missed, exploding and blasting a hole into the ceiling instead. Had it actually been accurate, the Commissar would have been killed then and there.  
Raege hurried as fast as was possible for her down the stairwell. As she came to the turn at the seventh floor entry, she stopped, and looked down the corridor.  
"Minhelm!" She called. The Iron Guard Sergeant stopped and looked back up at her.  
"Yes, yes Commissar?" She nodded quickly.  
"Get everyone into the sewers. I'm going to go kill some heretics."  
"Are you sure, Commissar?"  
"Go, Lara."  
Raege shooed them off, and once they disappeared from view down the spiral, she began to run down corridor.

She checked the dead heretics' bodies; many of them had been carrying missile launchers and other explosive devices in addition to smaller arms. They'd been intent on seriously disrupting rear-line formations.  
The scream of a jet engine was suddenly apparent, though muffled through the walls. Working hastily now, Raege slipped the carrying strap off the dead cultist's shoulder, then took several of the tube-like missiles, their tips pointed with a cone, from his body and that of his buddy. She opened up the loading breach, and dropped one of the rockets in.  
She'd never fired a missile launcher before. While serving with the Boomslangs, she'd often observed them being used by a team of two, due to the difficulty of firing and reloading. She suddenly wished she'd brought Minhelm, or Angela, or any of them.  
A muddled, dark shape appeared in the dirty window as Raege stood in the middle. She gulped. _They'd found her._  
The gunship was watching her, guided by its auspex. Raege tightened her fingers around the grip of the launcher's trigger. She knelt down, supporting the weapon over her left shoulder, steadying her aim as best as she could with the massive power fist on her right hand without blocking her vision.  
She fired.  
The rocket sprang from the barrel, leaving Raege surrounded by a massive cloud of exhaust fumes, then it smashed through the window, shattering the pane near-instantly. Next, it hit punched through the cockpit canopy of the Vulture, at which point it detonated. The gunship tilted backwards, reeling from the explosion, and then, as the engine's intake failed, it tilted further and began to fall. It made a whole circle, then crashed into the front of the building on the opposite side of the street, which took off its tail, and sent glimmering specs of glass mixed in with bits of scrap metal raining down. It came apart in a blaze as soon as it hit the ground.  
The black smoke of the wreck was wafting up to Raege's level as a fourth Vulture appeared now. She'd already begun reloading before the gunship's autocannon barrels started spinning. She lifted up the launcher again, remaining impossibly calm as the other glass panes shattered, and the walls beside her were dotted with holes from the autocannon bullets. She tightened her grip. She fired.  
The missile bounced, harmlessly, off the fuselage, and then spiralled away into the side of a building, where it exploded, shattering the closest row of windows.  
Raege cursed her luck, and made a dash down the hall to the right, narrowly dodging bullets. At one point, she lost her balance and landed on her leg, but quickly recovered. The firing continued a few minutes, a few shots managing to punch through the wall, and then, eventually, the autocannon ceased altogether. As Raege passed down the next corridor, she stopped to catch her breath and reload. As her adrenaline rush began to slow down, she became aware of a distinct pain in her outer thigh. She looked down. A shard of glass glimmered back at her, covered with thick, dirty blood. Her stockings were stained almost completely as well.  
Instictively, Raege pulled the thing out, which only brought about more pain and more blood. She breathed hard, then went back to loading the next rocket in. Her last one. She couldn't go back for more, because that damned gunship was out there.  
She could hear that thing, waiting, still following her, watching for her next move.  
That angered her, and so, she decided, it had to end. She was suddenly filled by a renewed willingness to fight. She stood back up. She began to run, ignoring the pain in her thigh, in addition to that which had formed in her shoulder and arm as she fired the heavy weapon. The sound of the gunship's jet remained constant. The outside walls were following the pathways she went along. Any minute now, she would likely come to another set of windows...  
There, at the next turn. She could see it, the light of the outside, against the shadows cast by the walls of the interior. She could now hear that damned thing even more clearly.  
She hefted up the launcher over her shoulder, and charged. As she came to a stop in front of one broken pane, the gunship bounced up in front of her. It began firing again with its heavy bolter, creating a terrifying roar as the massive rounds smashed through everything they touched, but ultimately, the Commissar was still left standing.  
Raege fired the missile.  
It flew, straight into the intake fan. The results were instantaneous; the engine exploded, and then the rest of the gunship detonated. It fell to the ground as a massive fireball, crashing loudly and cracking the pavement.  
The scream of jets had finally stopped. The Commissar sighed with relief, sliding down to the floor, her back against the wall. This, she decided, was a career opportunity worth holding onto.  
A cultist appeared to the right, dressed in green flak armor, covered in disturbing markings, with a las gun in his hands. Raege had no time to pull her autopistol out.  
The cultist took aim at her.  
His head exploded in a pink vapor.  
Raege looked down the left side of the hall.  
Major Zune Lockwood stood at the corner, her face and clothes dirty, toting her hellgun like one of the poster boys from the recruitment images. "Sorry I'm late, had to make a run through the sewers. Heard your signal a ways off."  
Raege nodded her head. "Good thing you got here when you did."  
"Sure as hell, a good thing. Oh come on, the least you could do is smile for me!" Zune laughed as the Commissar frowned. "Come on, Raege, let's get out of this damned pit."  
The Commissar nodded, ignoring the lack of formality Lockwood displayed, and let the Major help her up, still carrying the launcher. All the way down to the main floor, she and the Major talked about how many honors one could get for destroying four Vultures.

A few weeks later, Inquisitor Tobias Levy sat down in the study of his estate on Scintilla, and read Commissar Raege's report. He smiled.  
She would prove useful after all.


	4. A Memory

**FATHER**

Michael J. Raege had been waiting for this moment nine months.  
Nine months had passed since his beloved Milessa had become pregnant with his child. He'd been so proud, that almost immediately after, he had conducted a clairvoyance to foresee the child's fate. He was certain it would be a boy, and that boy would grow into a strong man, an Imperial Guard officer of the highest quality.  
His friend over in the Adeptus Astra Telepathica, Kryl, had warned him not to take the results too seriously, that they might be wrong. He would have none of that. He was the best psyker on Kuluth! There was a reason why he was the advisor of Lord General Ranc! He was never wrong!  
He and Milessa spent weeks discussing what they would name the boy. Conrad, they decided. He would, without a doubt, grow to be a soldier. One that would bring the Raege family name to the highest of prestige, one that would set the banner of his regiment among the thousands of others honored enough to stand watch over the Eternity Gate on Holy Terra. He decided to fill out Conrad's birth certificate with the Administratum three months into Milessa's pregnancy.  
He watched the procedure through the observation port in the other room. He wore Medicae scrubs over his normal dress. A face mask rested around his neck, just covering the tip of his chin. Lord General Ranc had taken leave of his office to grace his trusted confidant by attending the birth of his child, and now stood watching beside him, wearing his uniform with a number of heavy-looking medals pinned to it. He was practically beaming, genuinely excited for Michael nearly as much as Raege himself was excited for his child.  
"I'm quite certain he'll make a wonderful guardsman, Mike." Ranc said, nudging his friend.  
"Oh, I know he will." Raege replied gleefully. He could feel, past the minds of the medicae, past the laboring mind of his dear Milessa there on the operating table, he could feel his child's mind. It was small, simple still, but surprisingly tough for an infant not yet even out of his mother's womb. "Conrad, you'll be somebody. You'll be the best Kuluth will see." He whispered to himself.  
The chief medicae, who had been leaning to deliver the child, finally stood straight. Michael could see he was holding something, like a small bag of flesh. He retrieved a towel from a nearby table and began to dry off Conrad.  
Michael could feel it. His child was crying. He was conscious.  
Unable to stand waiting any more, the new father snapped the face mask over his mouth and rushed into the operating room, nearly overturning a sterilized tool stand as he went.  
"Erm, congratulations, Mister Raege-"  
"Let me see my son." Michael cut the chief medicae off.  
"Michael… How is he?..." Milessa panted, struggling to peek over.  
"Well, um, you see, sir-"  
"Let me see my son." Michael repeated, suddenly more serious than before.  
The chief medicae sighed, shook his head, and handed the child to Michael.  
Michael looked excitedly at his son. "Oh, hello there you, goodness, aren't you-" He stopped, suddenly.  
He realized he didn't have a son.  
He had a daughter.  
The smile under his mask suddenly faded.  
He'd been wrong.  
Milessa's breathing suddenly intensified. Her status monitor suddenly started beeping alerts. It took a moment for Michael to snap out of his trance.  
"Michael?"  
"Milly?"  
"Something's wrong! Her vitals are going crazy!"  
The surgeons and medicae began rushing in a seemingly pointless pattern to-and-from pieces of equipment. Outside, Lord General Ranc was leaning forward, with a more-than-concerned look on his face.  
"Michael…"  
"Milessa…"  
It was the last time he'd ever speak to her. Milessa Raege, born Milessa Horsythe, died in the pains of the afterbirth.

It was the middle of the night, when Conrad began to wail again.  
Milessa refused to leave Michael's dreams. He didn't want her to. He awoke, instantly becoming aware of two things: the child's screaming, and the terrible, empty space in the bed where Milessa had once slept.  
He drearily rose to his feet, and walked over to the cradle. The glow of the outside streetlight illuminated his view of his baby girl.  
She stopped crying for a moment, and looked up at her father with those big, blue eyes.  
It had been a week since Milessa died. Ranc had been kind enough to give Michael a few months off work with pay to sort things out.  
Tears pattered the baby's covers. How dearly, he wanted to end it. Just kill her! She was so fragile, so small. He could snap her neck instantly…  
No, he told himself. He couldn't do that.  
With those big, blue eyes staring up at him, he decided once and for all.  
Conrad F. Raege would grow to be as much of a man as possible.

"Get up."  
Conrad panted, weakly struggling to get to her feat. Her arms collapsed again.  
"I said get up, child!" Michael hissed.  
Finally, Conrad slid to her knees, and then to her feet.  
"You know what you must do." Michael said, frowning at his child.  
"Yes father."  
"What?"  
"Yes sir."  
Michael leaned forward, staring coldly into her eyes. The blue, warp-be-damned eyes. "Don't call me that again. Not in my presence."  
"Yes sir."  
Michael stood straight again, and began to circle Raege, who stood at attention. "I've spoken to Lord General Ranc. Now that you're 10 years old, he's decided to enroll you at the academy. As a male. You leave tomorrow morning."  
"Understood sir."

"So let me get this straight…" The chief instructor sat back in his seat. It bounced backwards with the sudden shift of weight, then rebounded back into place. "You mean to tell me, Conrad here is a woman, but you knowingly enrolled her here as a male?" He nodded at the girl, who sat, hands in her lap and her head to the floor, and then looked back to her father.  
"Yes, I did, instructor." Michael said, plainly.  
"May I ask why?"  
"I wanted Conrad to receive the best training."  
"The women receive the same training, though."  
Michael didn't respond.  
"Look, Mister Raege…" The chief instructor folded his arms. "When one of the boys noticed her, erm…" He coughed. "Lady-parts, in the showers, there was a real riot about getting on her. Granted, she seemed to do well to keep them at bay, but for pity's sake, we can't have a woman creating sexual tension amongst these kids. They're troubled enough by their daily routine as it is."  
"Do you understand me, Mister Raege?" He raised an eyebrow.  
"Yes." Michael said flatly, and stood up.

"Connie!" Lord General chuckled, holding out his big, meaty arms to embrace the girl. The other students in the barrack saluted him as he waddled up to his godchild.  
"Hello, Uncle Ranc." Raege said flatly, accepting the big man's hug. "What brings you here?"  
"I wanted to visit you." Lord General Ranc said, smiling big and wide. He looked to the other girls. "Oh, at ease, all of you!"  
"Shouldn't you be preparing a plan for the conquest of Proserto Reach?"  
"You read about that?" Ranc scratched at the back of his balding head, with a look of near-confusion on his face. "Wow, Conrad, didn't know you kept that up to speed on Guard news. Anyway, yeah, but I wanted to give you something, seeing as you turned 16 last week. I think you earned it." He produced a small, sealed box from his coat. "I had that made for you a while ago. Sorry I wasn't here on your birthday."  
"It's fine." Raege assured him, opening up the gift. It was a solid gold circular badge, with the Imperial Aquila at the center, "Conrad Raege" written on the upper rim, and with the phrase "Service is heroism – Heroism is service" written along the lower rim.  
Conrad looked back at Ranc. "Thank you." She said. It was awkward, considering she didn't smile. She never did.  
Ranc stared sadly at her.  
"Uncle Ranc, are you alright?"  
"No, to tell you the truth…" The big, old Lord General sighed. "You see… Your father…"  
"What about him?"  
"This morning, he… he killed himself." Ranc said quickly.  
"Conrad, you're now an orphan."


	5. Chapter 3

**III  
PSYKER**  
_"The tragedy of these mutants is that, often times, they are true of their faith to the Emperor, but their miserable exteriors condemn them to a life of suffering."  
- Inquisitor Bryant Krosh, upon observing the movement of captured psykers onto the Black Ships_

It had been 6 months since the unit's inception. By that point, Raege's platoon had grown to 80 guardsmen. The 6 months had been spent hopping from war zone to war zone, and because the crew of the _Rapidheart_ had decided it was too risky to be taking them to these planets, they had been hopping from transport to transport, much more frequently than a Guard regiment would during this time period.  
On Menathot, after being kicked off the _Reitanz_, Raege was stuck, amongst sprawling hive spires, until Levy could come to give them personal transport aboard his strike cruiser, the _Heart of Glass_. Upon receiving the astropathic message, Levy sent back the next day that he had immediately turned his ship around to assist them. He seemed to be close, for which Raege was grateful. She'd already spent a good half of the emergency thrones Levy had allowed her in the event of such an incident on five-day lodgings for the entire unit.  
Levy appeared on the fifth day of the unit's stay, which Raege thanked the Emperor for. For three hours, Levy sent a single transport craft back and forth to pick men up off the planet. Raege and Lockwood were, naturally, the first ones aboard. Nada had been next to be shipped up.

Raege was watching in the docking bay as the next batch of troops stepped off the transport, putting their names down on a list. She didn't even need to ask them to identify themselves, she'd learned them all by heart. The mark left by the glass on Matrinar had disappeared after surgical repair had been requested by Levy.  
As she watched the transport leave again, she felt a tap at her shoulder. She turned, to be met by the Inquisitor.  
"A moment, if you will, Commissar." Levy said with that smile of his. That wretched smile of his. He held his hand out in the direction of the door.  
"Certainly." Raege followed him out of the hangar.  
"You've been doing very well, Raege." Levy announced, strolling almost too casually down the conduit. "In fact, you've been expanding so quickly, I've been considering putting you to actual work… I hear there's been a farmer uprising on Reltax Phieta."  
Raege stayed silent, eyeing Levy.  
"Anyway, I have a gift for you." The Inquisitor said. As they turned a corner, he stopped a passing crewman and instructed him to take over in making sure everyone got aboard, then sent him along on that path.  
"It best not be another Culexus Assassin." Raege said, frowning. "Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the presented usefulness, but for pity's sake, I don't enjoy being surprised like that."  
Levy chuckled. "No, no. It's not." He told her, stopping to call for a lift to the upper levels. "In fact, it's quite the exact opposite of a Culexus Assassin, really."  
"You're giving me a psyker."  
Levy raised his eyebrows to this, as the lift doors parted behind him. "Very keen of you. Yes, she's a psyker. She's the daughter of an old friend of mine. The Governor of Reth? He begged me to keep her out of the regiments, and so, being unable to turn down a friend, I'm giving her to you." The two stepped onto the lift.  
"Interesting." Raege deadpanned.  
"Yes…" Levy coughed. After a few moments, the lift door opened again, and they exited. Levy lead her down a few more hallways, until they were at the doors to his office. "I should warn you, Raege. She's a bit… Different."  
"How so?" Raege asked.  
"… You'll find out…"  
The door slid open, silently, and Levy allowed Raege to enter first.  
At the far end, looking at a collection of different amasec vintages set out at one side of the room, was a small woman. She was dressed in the signature brown clothing of a Sanctioned Psyker, and she was completely unaware of Raege and Levy's presence. She was leaned over to such a point that it was nearly scandalous even with her black tights, considering how short the skirt portion of her uniform was.  
"Milady Alice, if you'd please." Levy spoke up. The woman nearly jumped, she was so startled. She turned quickly to the doorway, where the Inquisitor and the Commissar stood.  
"Ah, hello to you, Inquisitor!" The girl said. Her voice was so high-pitched, she nearly sounded like a child.  
She looked to Raege. "Is this… Um…"  
"Raege. Yes, this is Commissar Conrad Raege. She'll be your commander, Lady Alice. Levy said, placing his hands on Raege's shoulders. He quickly took them off when the Commissar stared back at him.  
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Commissar Raege." The girl said, curtsying as best she could in the skirt. "I am Alice Boone, first daughter of Silas Boone, nobleman of Reth."  
"Ease up, kiddo." Raege said sharply, causing Alice to wince. "We're formal to a different degree."  
"Um, if you'll excuse us, Milady, Raege and I need to talk about a few things… If you'd kindly wait outside a few minutes?" The Inquisitor said. Boone did as told, and walked out, bowing to Levy and Raege as she left.  
Levy went behind his desk, and Raege, breathing deeply, stood at the other side.  
"She seems… Rather fragile." The Commissar said.  
"She is, I'm afraid." Levy said. "Her father nearly lost his nobleman status in the work of keeping her from ending up on Terra to fuel the Astronomicon. I gave him my word that I'd ensure she lives a relatively decent life, and so, I give her to you."  
Raege was quiet for a moment, and so, the Inquisitor spoke again.  
"I'll tell you what. She can work as your assistant, or something. Keep her as far from combat as possible. As payment for putting up with her, I'll transport you around aboard this ship for a few months. And in addition to that, I'll find something else to give to you as a reward."  
Raege rubbed at her forehead, pushing back her cap, which she then adjusted again. "Very well. We haven't much other choice, now do we?"  
Levy smiled again. "Good! That's what I want to hear!" He stood up. "Come, let's take the girl to her new quarters."

That evening, as the _Heart of Glass_ was leaving orbit, Raege was sitting alone in her room, putting her belongings out. This time around, Levy had insisted she and Major Lockwood have their own separate quarters to make things more comfortable.  
In addition to the older memorabilia, there was now a new holo amongst the frames, depicting the unit posing. It had been taken two months earlier while they were on Trentius, from which Raege had saved two Athonian Tunnel Rats. She took off her dark blue overcoat, and laid it out on the back of her chair. For a moment, she looked to the photograph of the first class she had taught at the Progenium; of the thousand students that graduated onto further positions, only one had been taught by her. Goodness, what a frightening beast of fury he had become.  
She looked to the mirror on the desk. Why Levy had gone to such extremes in furnishing every room was beyond her, but she decided to make the most of it.  
She undid her hair, putting the bow ribbon aside. Retrieving a brush from her belongings, she began to clean it out in a practiced motion.  
There was a knock at the door, as she continued with her hair. "Come in." She called. The door opened, and in came Boone, hunched over timidly, with a tray in hand.  
"G-good evening, Commissar." She said. "Did you want some caff? I brought you some from the cafeterium."  
"Ah, yes, thank you. I was actually about ready to go get some." Raege said, gesturing for the girl to come in. The Psyker seemed to ease up a bit at this, and set the tray down where there was space for it. Boone stood for a second, as Raege poured herself some of the drink, and then turned for the door.  
"Where do you think you're going?" The Psyker flinched as Raege spoke. "Stay in here for a little while, until I'm done here. You may as well have some of this too."  
"Y-yes'm." Boone nodded nervously, then sat down on a stool close beside Raege's seat. She observed quietly for a few seconds as Raege neatened out her hair.  
"M… May I tie your ribbon for you?" Boone asked, leaning forward.  
"Go ahead." Raege said, putting her brush down. Boone picked the blue ribbon up off the desk.  
"So what was your life like on Reth?" Raege asked.  
"Oh, it was wonderful. My father was a good man. He did what was in his power to keep me happy, and he had an excess of power." Boone sighed, tying in the ribbon. "I… I miss it." She was silent for a few moments. Upon hearing what sounded like a series of sniffles, Raege looked back to her.  
Boone was crying.  
"I miss…" Boone stopped suddenly to sob. "I miss him…"  
"Collect yourself girl." Raege said, speaking almost softly. "You won't be seeing him again for a long while. You need to get used to that fact."  
The girl continued to weep.  
Raege sighed. "Here, here. Let's get you to your room." She said, standing up. She helped Boone to her feet, then walked her down the hall. She didn't even bother with her cap or coat.  
Alice continued to cry for another few minutes, but by the time Raege got her to her room, she had slowly begun to collect herself. She was now only making slight whimpers, and her breathing had begun to steady.  
"Alright, Boone." Raege coughed. "I expect you to have calmed yourself down by morning. Expect a message from me tomorrow so that we can find out what to do with you in the unit." She explained, seeming completely ignorant of the Psyker's misery. "Get some rest." She ordered. Boone nodded. Raege thumbed for her sliding door to open, and once Boone was inside, the Commissar closed it again. Boone had not saluted her; it was an offense for which Raege would have made a recruit's month a nightmare. She disregarded it.  
She took a deep breath, and put her back to the wall. She rubbed at the ridge of her nose, and remained standing there for a few minutes.  
Alice Boone, she decided, was too fragile to be put in harm's way.

Raege had come to appreciate sitting at the observation deck, and looking down trough the reversed dome that provided a view of the planet beneath them.  
She was there, watching the cloud formations roll along across the atmosphere of Magna Crutz. It was a quiet little civilized world, but recently there had been a small independence movement that had spiraled out of control. The Guard had been mobilized to put an end to it.  
She'd already made a run for any new recruits. She'd found two, just a couple of Cadians.  
Things were getting rather tense between the troops. A variety of regiments under one roof, it had been clear from the beginning that this would create problems, along with the mixed genders. Angela and Eva almost never took off their uniforms, and although this unsettled a number of people, they had become the subject of an almost fetish-like obsession amongst some of the male members. Debunking the rumor that the two Krieg twins showered with their masks on, a couple of troopers had managed to hide a camera in the women's baths. Raege never did find out how and where they had obtained such a device, but she'd had the almost spy-like equipment destroyed, though the pictures had already circulated throughout the entire ship. The girls didn't seem to care, but then again, they didn't seem to care about much of anything at all. Raege wouldn't even bother to find them, and besides; as much as she hated to admit it, the candid imagery appeased some of the basic needs of the men.  
There had been a number brawls as well, mostly disputes over seconds on meals, of all things. Raege had also broken up at least three different fight clubs. Strangely, she'd caught a Catachan woman attempting to peek in on the men's baths.  
The fights, though. Those were major problems.  
Most of the time, it was an argument about whose homeworld was superior. Raege had made countless warnings that such talk was pointless, childish and would not be tolerated, but still they continued. What concerned her even more was that Levy didn't seem at all worried by the fact that there was 100 soldiers running around, threatening to tear his ship apart over foolish rivalry.  
A Navy cruiser went past below the Commissar, signal lights blinking along its hull. At the same time, the door to the deck opened. Raege didn't even bother to look back to see who it was, she could already tell be the unusual pattern of the step that it was Levy.  
"Ah! Here you are!" The Inquisitor said, smiling wide. He held his hands out as he slowed his pace, then folded them behind his back. "The Major told me you might be here. Come, Raege, I've got something for you." He turned again. Raege began to walk beside him.  
"So how has Boone been for you?" He asked.  
Raege shrugged. "She's proved useful."  
Indeed, in the five months since entering the unit, Boone had made herself useful as the Commissar's adjutant, given her fine knack for predicting Raege's needs. She hadn't cried again after that first night, but still, Raege worried for her. Not that she admitted it.  
"Good, good to hear." Levy lead her onto an lift. "You see, Raege, I'm absolutely positive you'll like the surprise I've got for you this time. So very nice."  
The lift must have taken them down at least fifteen levels before it finally stopped and the doors opened.  
"Why are you keeping it down here?" Raege asked, noting that the halls down in this area weren't as well-dressed as they were above. They were close to the engine rooms, and even further down below, Nada had been stored. Levy was afraid that there would be an umbra infestation, or something of such a horrible nature, and so he'd put the Culexus near another lift, at the far end of the ship, incase she was needed immediately.  
There was a peculiar sound scratching at Raege's mind. She ignored it.  
"Well, you see, it's another very… special surprise. I couldn't just keep it in the bays, it would be seen! I can't have that, because then it wouldn't be a surprise!"  
"Interesting…"  
The noise, Raege realized, sounded almost like a person whispering, so quietly, it was nearly impossible to hear.  
Levy stopped before a thick cell door. The locks around it were very unusual-looking. As he began to open up the door, the Inquisitor spoke again. "It's right through here. Don't worry about the lights, they'll come on automatically in a little bit." He grinned, then gestured for Raege to go through. "I must go do something. I'll come check up on you in a few minutes. Enjoy!"  
As soon as Raege had stepped through, Levy shut the door behind her. It became quite likely this was some sort of prank.  
Raege's head began to ache. The whispering became louder.  
"Hello?" The Commissar called out. The pain seemed to get worse. What in the name of the Emperor had Levy just thrown her into?  
_Hheeeeeeeello o o._ Called a voice, echoing and broken like an old vox being played in a large chamber.  
"What?" Raege called out again.  
_Could you come come a little closer er?_ It sent.  
"Um… certainly." Raege stepped forward, blindly.  
_May I ask, who are you?_ The voice asked.  
"I should ask you the same thing." Raege replied. The pain was became very sharp. It felt to Raege as if someone were attempting to cut her head open.  
She gasped.  
_Don't worry worry. THIS WIIIIIIILL only take a few seconds onds._  
"What… What are you doing?" Raege asked, breathing hard now. "Who are you? What are you?"  
Raege could suddenly recall bits and pieces of a number of old memories. Memories she thought she'd buried deep away, memories she never wanted to recall.  
"Please… Stop!" The Commissar pleaded.  
_It it won't take long, don't worry, Sir._  
It was a psyker, she realized. Oh Throne, Levy had thrown her into a psyker's cell!  
Raege began to whine, making light yelps with each pang of intense pain. She could feel something warm running down her nose. Her face felt as if it were under intense pressure.  
_Please, Commissar, you must calm down._ The voice sent again. Raege realized it seemed almost… feminine.  
She remembered, strangely, the fact that she never loaded her execution pistol, the fact that she enjoyed the symphonies of Dorton von Kranzer, the fact that she didn't mind Major Zune Lockwood's almost easygoing attitude.  
"Please!" Raege cried out in pain. "Don't!" She felt violated, as though someone had taken her and exposed everything she held precious for the world to see. She was being violated, she knew it.  
She saw the cheerful face of her old godfather, the late Lord General Frederick Ranc. He was dead, he'd been so for 40 years, poisoned while conquering Voltiris.  
She saw the stern face of John Fuklaw, her student at the Schola Progenium. He was off Emperor-knows-where, and Raege had fallen out of contact with him.  
She saw the bitter and hateful face of her father, Michael J. Raege. He'd killed himself after it became clear his daughter could not grow up as a man.  
The locks she'd placed around her heart for so long burst open suddenly. All her most miserable days, weeks, months and years suddenly released themselves, swirling around her head like menacing phantoms.  
She screamed out as one final throb sent her unconscious.

Jonquil Lancaster was born aboard the _Xerxes_, a mining vessel, while it was caught on the edge of a raging warp storm out near the Eye of Terror. She'd always blamed that for her problems.  
She had been considered absolutely adorable for the first ten years of her life, loved by everyone aboard the _Xerxes_. She'd lived as well a life as her hard-working parents, engineers aboard the ship, could afford.  
By the time she was a teenager, however, her body had suddenly and completely changed. She grew extremely tall, which completely distorted her entire physique. Her fingers grew long, and her nails grew even longer and did so faster. Her eyes turned a strange pinkish color.  
Everyone began to avoid her. People she'd once thought to be her friends left her behind, calling her some sort of monster, a freak, a mutant. She couldn't even remember how much she'd cried.  
Then, when things seemed to be unable to get any worse, her mind suddenly began releasing a number of psychic events. The crew of the _Xerxes_ was absolutely horrified, and Jonquil began to endure a sort of torment that few had the misfortune to experience. Her own parents seemed to have disowned her after years of caring, simply because of what was becoming of her. To rid themselves of this foul creature they'd once called a daughter, they alerted the Inquisition as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Jonquil was thrown onto the Black Ships like a sick cattle beast. Her teeth had all sharpened themselves to razors. She often times bit her tongue on their painful edges.  
She'd attempted to find people to speak with even then, but no one dared to come near her, except for one.  
He'd had an expression that reminded Jonquil of a snake. He offered her comfort, he offered her companionship. She was so eager and desperate for contact with another human that she did not resist him taking advantage of her body. He cast her aside, leaving Jonquil crying as her teeth grew to the point that she couldn't move her mouth..  
When she was thrown before the Golden Throne on Terra, her soul had been almost completely broken. Her eyes had burst, and in replacement, they'd fitted her with a bulky set of augmetics. Every muscle in her face had locked up. She looked like a monster. To everyone she came in contact with, she was a monster, one with the smile of a daemon.  
She was thrown from Guard regiment to Guard regiment as a Sanctioned Psyker. Nobody wanted her. She was actually chased out of the battlefield by a group of guardsmen once. Her very presence disturbed men, and on one occasion they went into a panicked mutiny because they felt as though they were going to be eaten by some monster.  
Inquisitor Tobias Levy picked her up while she was being prepared for transit back to Terra to instead be put to work on the Astronomicon, deciding that she was an interesting rarity. He too, however, began to distance himself from the psyker. He didn't like looking at her, and the extent of her powers made her almost too dangerous. After a short while of "owning" her, Levy decided he'd get rid of her, and so, the Inquisitor told her she was to be given to the Commissar.  
Such a miserable life, Raege decided. Hers couldn't possibly compare.  
_No no._ She heard Jonquil's voice reply. _You and I have had our share of hardships hardships. We have suffuffered equally._  
Raege opened her eyes. The lights had come on over the room. As her vision adjusted to it, she could make out a figure standing over her.  
Raege could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She couldn't recall the last time she cried. Not even any death had ever had this effect on her.  
The face, with a pair of clicking red augmetics eyes, surrounded by scars, finally came to focus.  
"Jonquil…" Raege whispered.  
_I'm at your com command mand, Sir Sir._ Jonquil Lancaster announced.  
The Commissar sat up, and Jonquil returned to her feet. She was lanky, very much so. Her limbs were extremely long and slender. Her body was nearly just as thin.  
Raege sat up as she heard the cell hatch open. In strolled Inquisitor Levy.  
He clapped as he came in. "Raege! I see you've come to know Miss Lancaster." Raege didn't respond.  
"I'll tell you, Commissar, she's a bit of a…" He paused, and looked uneasily at Jonquil. "Liability, I'm sorry to say, for me. But I feel she'd be much more useful to you."  
_Damn amn right I will be be… Sir._  
Raege looked at Jonquil. Praise be to the Emperor, that only Raege could have heard that.  
"So, for taking something like this off my hands, I should give you my thanks." Levy continued. "So, what can I do for you? What can I get your team? I'll grant you, let's say, two wishes." He chuckled at how he'd phrased this.  
"Well…" Raege took a moment to breath while she contemplated. "For one, you can get my team its own transport."  
Levy raised an eyebrow to this.  
"And for another, I want one of those Eversors."  
"The assassins?" Levy gulped.  
"Yes."  
Levy stood there, staring at her blankly for a few seconds, then responded. "I'm afraid I can't do that for you, Comissar."  
"What do you mean?" Raege asked, tilting her head. _Jonquil, could you do me a favor, and dig through his mind for something to use to get our way?_  
_You've got it, Boss._  
"Well, you see, Raege, I'm afraid that work-free starships don't just come about and lay themselves on my lap. I can't just disturb the entire sector's trade system simply for the sake of giving you permanent transport…" He continued lecturing her for another minute, but Raege wasn't listening to him.  
"And as for the assassin business, Raege, they're an even less common commodity than an available ship. I was able to get you that Culexus, because she was simply going unused, and the temple officios decided I could have her. Be thankful you have just her!"  
_You're certain about that?_ Raege looked up at Lancaster again  
_Quite certain, Boss._  
"Don't mistake my gratitude, Inquisitor, but I need a bit more than her. I also need the ability to travel freely, so that we don't repeat what happened on Menathot." Raege explained. "But if you don't give me what I want, then that is fine. I suppose the Ordos will like to hear of your business with Lady Freja."  
Levy blinked. Then he smiled. "Raege, you do know how to convince me."  
"It's what I do, Inquisitor."

After two weeks, Levy picked up a ship for them.  
The _Ave Maria_ was a rare gem, one of the last freights of the Rundis Class. The initial production had been made over a millennia ago, but further models had been created for another five centuries. Eventually, however, they were replaced by the Xander Class, and, as it was with old ships, they began to die out.  
The _Ave Maria_ had managed to survive nearly 500 years. This, Levy decided, was grounds enough to call upon it as Raege's vessel.  
Nada looked out at the old vessel, visible through the containment field at the far end of the hangar. "Permission to make an inquiry?"  
"Granted…" Raege said, nearly stammering. She still wasn't used to this proximity with the Culexus.  
"Why are you showing me this?" The assassin asked.  
"Because, Nada, I've decided I'm going to let you keep out of your stasis tank." Raege said.  
Nada raised her eyebrows at this.  
"You don't deserve to be cooped up like that." Raege assured.  
"Thank you, Commissar."  
Raege held out her hand to the Culexus. Nada grasped it, and Raege shook.  
"Well then, Nada, let's get you aboard and… find you… a…" Raege stared at her hand; Nada was still holding onto it.  
She refused to say anything. Nada simply stood there, staring blankly at Raege for a good minute.  
Raege coughed. "You… ah… you may let go now, Nada."  
"Understood, Commissar."  
Raege gestured to the craft that had returned from shuttling a batch of guardsmen over to the _Ave Maria_. Its passenger bay had opened up. "You're next aboard. I'll see you there."  
"Yes, Sir." Nada turned in an almost too-mechanical fashion, put on her skull mask, and went off to board the lander.  
Raege watched as the craft took off again. Boone appeared from the doorway, then.  
"Umm… Mam, the girls are getting into an argument again." She announced. "Mam" was a habit she'd formed over the last few months instead of using "Sir", but the Commissar had let it go.  
"They seem about ready to get at each other's throats…"  
Raege sighed, adjusted her cap, and hurried along.


	6. Chapter 4

**IV  
KRANENSTAZ**  
_"... I therefore fear that this force is so ill-equipped as that it is entirely useless against this foe."  
- Colonel George Croitz of the Kantur 24th, upon assessing his regiment._

The eldar, as several xenologists had realized, were a race so incredibly complex in reasoning that they often baffled those who had devoted their lifetimes to a study of them.  
What it was that had possessed the xenos of Craftworld Sar-Cyrs to punch into the Calixis Sector to simply attack the shrineworld of Kranenstaz was beyond even the most experienced of Guard tacticians. The Munitorum clerk that first read the requisition for men nearly threw the form away, believing it to be a joke.  
So it was, that the Imperial Guard had spent 6 months fighting what could only be described as passive-aggressive enemies. They were jabbed at lightly at any given time, as if the humanoid xenos had no worry for the Guard's ability to retaliate, and indeed, they had little reason to be worried, as the Guard was painfully slow to react. Officially, they'd only gained an embarrassing ten kills on the raiders, but rumors were that the actual number was even lower. Before, after or during such strikes, the Guard stations would be hit by a much larger force, which just as easily escaped. Many tales spread quickly through the regiments from garrisoned veterans of fights with the xenos down to the greenhorns, that told of impossible war engines that spewed out hundreds of foot soldiers, whereas the vehicles could only possibly be large enough to hold barely 20 men. Horrifying exotic weapon systems obliterated many guardsmen. Crystals that spat beams of fire annihilated vehicles. Micro-thin disc blades cut cleanly through infantry, spraying out pressurized blood seconds after they'd escaped out the other end of the wound they created. The Commissars had their hands full enough as it was, and the madness that these disturbing tales and sights spawned made it nearly impossible for anything to be done. The feeling of fighting ghosts was prevalent throughout every rank in one form or another.  
One tactician suggested the xenos were attempting to scare mankind off the world. He was summarily executed for suggesting that they abandon the planet.  
Still, the thought lingered:  
Kranenstaz was a world covered by damp forests and cracked desert, and dotted by ruins, all of them human in origin. What could the eldar possibly want from it?  
That, Levy had explained, was what Raege was there to learn.

The Commissar blew away the steam from her mug of caf, not taking her eyes off the sight of Kranenstaz in the panel before her. Through the observation lounge's many panes, it almost looked… peaceful.  
_Complete opposite of things down there,_ Raege thought to herself as she took a sip from the mug. She set it down on the table, and sat back, content with things. Yes, things had been rather relaxing.  
The unit was relatively docile at that moment, compared to what it often was like in regards to discipline. Angela had begun to associate with Zoya, the Vostroyan tank driver. They had managed to connect, telling one-another of experiences with their vehicles. Zoya was like Angela, in that they were both without their beloved armor: The Krieg girl had no tank to command, the Vostroyan girl had no tank to drive.  
Jonquil would often disappear for an hour-or-so, and Raege never had the sense or time to follow after her. Her presence had been accepted relatively well by the rest of the unit. This was a relief to the worried Raege.  
Boone would cling to her Commissar whenever the chance presented itself. In fact, she was just off after bringing Raege some hot caff, which she herself had brewed. She'd recently also become better acquainted with Major Lockwood. Oddly, the two seemed to have turned into good friends.  
Indeed, Raege was comfortable, albeit awkward, with the lack of trouble in the unit. It gave her more time to listen to von Kranzer's latest production: Waltz Number 21, "The Dance of the Ayleins." It was a beautiful piece, lasting over an hour, telling wordlessly the tale of a troupe of dancers, hit by tragedy after tragedy, and yet, continued to dance as their way of worshipping the God-Emperor. At least, that's what Raege had observed.  
Just as Raege was about sit down and enjoy the caff, contemplating about how she could turn the waltz's tale into an inspiring anecdote, Boone appeared in the lounge again.  
"Mam," the small psyker nodded "I think the Captain wishes to speak to you…"  
Raege looked up. Striding up behind Boone, was the _Ave Maria's_ Captain, Anitia Millia. She was a near-militant woman in her code of conduct, strict on her crew, and for that she had Raege's respect.  
"Sir." Captain Millia bowed. "I feel you need to see something."  
"See something?" The Commissar asked.  
"I believe it's a package for you, down in the holds."

Raege looked the crate over. It was a large, yellow box made of steel. Thick steel, by the sound it made upon being tapped. Along the side was the phrase "CANNED EGGS".  
To Raege, it looked like a normal food container. There was a command plate on the front end.  
She looked back to the Captain. "How long has this been down here?"  
"Since we picked you all up." Millia responded. "Inquisitor Levy wished for us to have it put down here for about a week after we parted. He didn't want you to see it until we arrived in this system."  
Raege nodded. _A gift._ She looked at the command plate again: it required an access code.  
"Mam…" Boone stepped forward, looking uneasy. "I've got this feeling… there's something in there."  
"Thank you for confirming that, Boone." Raege said, and then thumbed her Munitorum code into the plate.  
The crate began to release a hydraulic hiss. Frigid air spread across the ground as a fog. The entire top section of the box slid open, revealing a cavity just wider than the shoulders of a man. Within, sat a coffin. Black, with gold lining, and an iron cast of a human skull at the center, above which "" was written. Below the skull, was a line from the Ecclesiarchy's scriptures:  
_"Thou shalt be glad of thy Master's Punishment, for it is deserved and it improves thee."_  
Raege's heartbeat grew fast. Her Eversor Assassin had arrived.  
A note was stuck to the side of the cavity. Raege plucked it out. Frost slipped off it, turning to water as it became exposed to the warmer air of the holds, and smudged at the ink, but the words themselves were still readable.

_"Raege,_

_This, is the Eversor Temple Assassin of designation MICL, a truly fearsome monster were there ever one._  
_He's a very unusual case. He was a failed experiment to make an Eversor that was actually capable of self-awareness. It's a common problem with them, that their drug addictions turn them into berserk monstrosities. Partially, this is intended, but even with major servo-programming, they often lose it, 'it' being sight of their goal._  
_I suppose was not an entire failure, though. He's capable of comprehending spoken word, as far as I can tell. I don't suggest you let him out of his coffin unless the situation calls for him to fight, in any case._

_Regards,_  
_Levy"_

Raege stared at the letter for a moment, and then spoke again. "Captain," She looked back at Millia.  
"Sir?"  
"This crate stays here at all times, understood?" She said, pointing to the Eversor's container.  
"Of course." The Captain bowed. "And I will not speak of what I have seen."  
"Thank you." The Commissar adjusted her cap, and entered her munitorum code into the front panel again, closing the container.  
As Raege stepped out of the hold, she was about nearly as excited as was possible for her.  
Lockwood was wandering the halls not too far away.  
"Sir." She said, straightening her posture a bit. Not quite as straight as she had been when Raege first assumed command, but still, well enough.  
"At ease Major. With me." Raege ordered, gesturing, and continued walking. "The Eversor came in."  
"Throne, really?"  
"Yes. It's been here a while. You know that old canned eggs crate that's been sitting out there for the past two weeks now?" Raege looked back to Lockwood.  
"Yeah…" The Major said, expecting the Commissar to continue. She eventually realized what had been meant by the question. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me!" She laughed in her surprise.  
"I kid you not." Raege answered. "He hid the thing in there. It's apparently set up with an entire cryogenics system."  
"Wow."  
"I know."  
"We should test him out!"  
Raege stopped, and stared at Lockwood. "What?"  
"You know, set him loose on some eldar! That should be fun!"  
Raege looked at the Major with a strange expression. "Why would we do that?"  
"They're amazing, I've seen them fight before!" Lockwood said, practically jumping with excitement. "Such brutally awesome strength, great big claws shredding and pumping enemies full of toxins that dry them to prunes, executioner pistol blasting apart enemies, and… and…" She continued on, her listing running off into a near-incoherent babble.  
"This is a bit unusual, even for you, Zune." Raege commented, looking Lockwood over from head-to-toe. "You haven't been hitting the rotgut too hard, have you?"  
"No Sir!" The Major quickly straightened her stance. "I mean… not… recently…" She coughed, and looked away slowly.  
"You're acting like a kid on Emperor's Morning." Raege said.  
"Well, I admit, I certainly feel like one!" Lockwood replied.  
Not entirely amused, the Commissar continued walking. "Get some rest, Major. We're heading to the surface in a few hours." She said.  
"Yes Sir." Lockwood saluted, then hurried off down the path she'd originally been traveling.  
Raege needed something to drink, she decided. She'd have to ask Boone to make her some more-  
Raege looked to her side, where Boone usually hung by her. The little psyker wasn't there.  
"Boone?"  
"Right here, Mam!" The pitiful psychic woman said, jogging up to the Commissar.  
"Where the blazes were you?" Asked Raege in a sharp tone.  
"Sorry," Boone pushed her psychic hood out of her eyes. "I was talking to Michael."  
Raege stared at her adjutant. "… Michael?"  
"Yeah, the guy in the container?"  
"You mean you can speak to him?" Raege's eyebrow was raised as high as it could go now. This was stranger than most of what she was used to with Boone.  
"He said his designation was, like, "" or something like that." Boone explained. "I said that was a silly name, so we decided to go ahead and call him Michael!"  
"Interesting…" Raege mumbled, turning slowly and walking. "Boone, make me some fresh caff, please."  
"Yes'm." The little woman nodded, and then scurried away, and the Commissar just stood there for a moment before quickly heading off back to the observation deck. She definitely needed something to drink.

The ruin-cities of Kranenstaz were like scars, peculiar reminders of some past occurrence, and each one had been made empty for its own unique reason.  
Salorn had been evacuated when the people realized they were living atop a lake of magma. With each passing year, the ground seemed to become even weaker as the magma pushed further up, and would eventually swallow the ghost city whole.  
Nenilo was vacated at the urgings of Saint Crort, in a mass-pilgrimage. It was then regarded by most as holy land, and by others as damned soil. Regardless, local belief held that anyone who entered its streets would be cursed.  
Well over three centuries ago, Krent had been the site of a heretical uprising. To stop the blasphemy from spreading, the city's Lord Nadroma decided to have it immolated by a small nuclear device. The event killed almost all the inhabitants. Those few who had survived died off quickly from the exposure. A few mutated, malformed husks of inbred scum still managed to roam the desert wastes, the descendants of those who had the misfortune to survive the destruction and yet not die of radiation poisoning. Of the city itself, only charred and crumbling buildings remained.  
Why it was the place known as Nornl was abandoned, was beyond all the planet's inhabitants. They didn't even know when it was abandoned. It was as if the ruins were meant to be forgotten, but yet still continued to live on.

When Raege had offered to make her unit useful to the Guard, she hadn't been expecting this sort of deployment. She'd wanted a chance to test out the combat ability of her men, and Salorn was shaping up to be anything but that.  
The geological hazard that was the empty city rested in the midst of the southern jungles. The eldar had been noted to be using the dense landscape as an escape route after making swift strikes against the Imperial patrols, which were vastly numerous where the plants were further apart. The tall, twisted trees refused to burn, as was their nature, and their bark was ridiculously thick. Only heavy-duty equipment was able to cut through. Sentinels armed with chainblades were sent in to tear out a path, but many fell to eldar raiding parties aboard their jetbikes, swerving at absurd speeds with impossible grace. Colonel Manfred Hirtz of the Kantur 15th, frustrated by this nonsense, had finally snapped and thrown his ceramite helmet to the ground. Then an eldar ranger, out in cover, all too-promptly put an energy bolt in through his forehead and out through the base of his spine. The sniper had disappeared by the time the guardsmen had started firing blindly into the trees.  
This was an utter fikking waste of resources, Raege decided. She sat back on the rubble of some roadblock. Before the eldar came, Salorn had been the stomping grounds of many young gangers, who saw it appealing to have an entire city concealed amidst trees to themselves. It was thanks to their childish fights that there was any damage to the buildings at all. Still, though, as Raege looked around, it seemed disturbing, with the rows of apartments and stores largely unharmed by gang-war.  
As to the fate of the youths, little was known. Raege suspected to find corpses eventually. She'd refuse to give them a burial.  
_Hey, Boss._  
The Commissar turned, and was greeted by Lancaster, who stood there as motionless as a statue with a disturbingly wide smile.  
"Did you need something, Quill?" Raege asked. She'd settled into referring to Lancaster by the nickname "Quill". The Major's lax attitude was starting to have something of an effect on her, it seemed.  
_I've got this feeling, Boss oss._ Lancaster said. _A really bad feeling feeling, like something nasty is bound to happen any time... say, what is it like to fight the eldar, anyway?_  
"They're very dangerous foes." Raege explained. "They move with speed that we can't even begin to contemplate. They strike with such speed. Then, they disappear with such speed. You need some very good training and equipment to even present a challenge to a raiding party of them."  
_Soundssss like like a dangerous enemy enemy._ Lancaster sent.  
"You aren't afraid, are you, Quill?" The Commissar asked. It was about as close to a joke as things ever got with her.  
_No, Sir ir._ Lancaster shook her head slowly.  
"Good. Don't get too worked up about them. Back to business, then." Raege patted her on the arm, and then walked past her.  
The Commissar continued along down the street, taking in every detail. While it was generally accepted to be a bad idea to walk about openly in an area where eldar possibly lurked, but she was confident that she was safe. There were plenty of squads of troops spread about, that ought to have been intimidating enough to deter any would-be attacker. Besides, as much as Raege attempted to avoid the conclusion, she was beginning to doubt there were any eldar in the city at all. It was a grave mistake to think like that, she told herself, but some other part of her kept arguing this was pointless.  
Even she wasn't immune to such shortsightedness.  
Something caught her eye at the top of one of the buildings at the four-way intersection ahead of her. A figure, human in shape, standing at the edge of the rooftop. For a moment it seemed to be looking in her direction, and then it slipped away out of sight.  
Raege clicked her microbead on. "Calling all patrol units, this is Patrol Head. Anybody on top of a building?" She asked, still watching the rooftops.  
The replies came in. All twenty squads answered no.  
"Be advised, tracking movement on rooftops. Investigate." She hurried up to the intersection. She wanted to check things out for herself.  
_Boss Boss, don't be getting yourself hurt urt._  
Raege looked back. Lancaster stood a distance off. _Don't worry, Quill. I'll be fine. Just go back, I'll be there in a few minutes._  
_But Boss…_  
_That's an order, Jonquil._ She returned, firmly. As if she could give it much emotion.  
_Okay kay, Boss Boss…_  
Raege looked up at the structure. It had been a business office at one point, before the city was abandoned.  
Abandoned buildings... Raege was beginning to hate them.  
She went up the steps, and then through the front door. She'd have waited for the squad, but she was itching for a little excitement.  
She drew her autopistol, and walked down the main hall. Most of the doors had been left shut, but a few of them were open, as if forced ajar. She didn't bother looking in. What she was looking for would likely be out in the open.  
She continued along, searching, searching…  
Wait.  
She stopped.  
What in the name of the Emperor was she doing? She was above cravings for battle. Why was she-  
She turned sharply upon hearing a loud crash. From within the room behind her, to the right, emerged a man, wearing filthy and ragged clothes that were covered in blotches of dirt and burn marks. His face was twisted into an expression of mad glee. In his hand he held a rusted old knife.  
He ran at her, cackling crazily.  
Raege fired, but the shot missed, and the round instead punched into the floor. She knew she didn't have time to correct her mistake.  
It was a strange sound, what she heard. It reminded her of an object being spat out of a tube by means of pressurized air.  
Her eye caught the glint of something metallic, passing by her leg, for a mere fraction of a second. Her attacker fell to the ground, and a second later, his calf exploded in a burst of spraying blood. He screamed in pain. A good section of his leg below his knee was hardly connected still to the rest of that limb. His blood poured out of the wound astonishingly fast.  
The sound, like something pneumatic again, and then the Commissar's attacker stopped screaming. Blood now pooled out from his head as well.  
Raege slowly raised her eyes to the other end of the hall. A man, draped in a cloak that almost matched the colors of its surroundings and which partially covered a suit of bizarre blue body armor, stood in the middle of the path. He held in his hand a bizarre weapon, sleek and slender in form, held at the ready to fire again.  
An eldar.  
Raege fired off several rounds from her autopistol, and ducked into cover through a door. The eldar had evaded each of her shots without as much as moving its feet.  
She gathered herself for a moment, then peeked out. The xeno had moved incredibly fast, she hadn't even heard him run. He grabbed her by her neck in an instant, forcing her up to her feet. With such amazing precision, he'd blocked her from breathing without breaking anything. She aimed her gun to fire into its gut - or whatever resided in its body at that location - but it had grabbed the hand she held her gun with as well.  
With great speed, he shifted behind her, like a slithering snake. He loosened his grip on her throat, Raege taking that precious small moment to breath, and then he covered her mouth instead.  
She attempted to struggle loose, but the alien's hold on her was unbreakable. A frown formed across his long, beautiful face, and he craned his neck down close to her ear.  
"Stay calm." It whispered softly, the Low Gothic words coming out with an odd accent. "Stay calm, or I will put a blade down through your throat, you wretched little Mon'Keigh."  
_What a way to turn such a seemingly assuring phrase into a death threat,_ Raege thought, but she obeyed him anyway, and ceased to fight. She didn't like it, but it beat being killed for such a simple reason. Her eyes darted from place to place as the eldar led her out of the doorway. Another one appeared, then. It had on a garb that looked more traditional, almost ceremonial compared to the creature that had her in this vice, this newcomer being decorated with a plating that seemed almost like a ribcage. Similar ribbed decorations adorned it. In addition to this it wore a helmet, crowned by a pair of antlers that branched off from the sides.  
The two exchanged incomprehensible words, a variety of sounds and tones that Raege couldn't hope to mimic, and then the one holding her let go. She collapsed to the ground. She willed herself to rise again, but she couldn't. It felt as if something were pushing her back down.  
For a moment, as she lie watching, the two eldar began to communicate without word. They formed various anatomically impossible shapes with their hands, and then they looked down at her. The one to have more recently appeared placed its hands on either side of its odd helmet, and then, with a click and a hiss of compressed air, it came off. Long, blue-white hair fell into its natural place, and the alien looked down at her with a distinguished face, all of his features sharper than new knives. He handed his helmet off to his companion.  
_Rise._  
Its lips had not moved, but Raege had heard the command plainly, as much as she had felt it. It was so much clearer than what Lancaster sounded like. She had little wish or reason to obey, but working against her will, her body did as instructed, and she stood up.  
"The runes cast, have identified you, Conrad Raege-human," He spoke with his true voice "they have identified you as a key matter of a dire plot."  
Raege remained silent. Not because she couldn't talk, but rather, she didn't want to. The fact she was listening was heretical enough.  
The Farseer narrowed his slanted eyes. "They tell me, despite the protests of my brothers and cousins, that it is you, and those around you, who will ultimately stop that foulness which seeks to transpire."  
Raege continued to remain silent.  
"Well?" He growled. "Speak your mind. Ask questions that you know you wish to ask, Conrad Raege-human."  
She spoke. "What do you mean?"  
The Farseer lifted up an arm, shrugging a long sleeve away from his hand, and touched Raege's cheek with his fingers. She winced in disgust.  
"There is little time. Your warriors are about to be met by a very hostile invader. Listen to me, and listen carefully." The Farseer said softly, staring hard at her. Raege tried to avoid his gaze, but her eyes finally made contact with his, and there they were locked. She began to lose herself in a trance. "When you see your master Levy-human again, you tell him this, and exactly this: he's looking in the wrong spots. Kranenstaz is an eldar word from the Sar-Cyrs dialect meaning 'time for violence.' Remember that, Conrad Raege-human." He slid his gloved finger along the outline of Raege's jaw. Her eyes had rolled back and her mouth was half-slack. Her facial features did not bleed; the Farseer was too good at his work to let something such as that happen. She snapped back into consciousness, blinking up at the xeno.  
"We part now, Conrad Raege-human. We will meet again, if your work is done. If not… well… we won't be here to dwell on that." He stepped past her, taking his helmet back from his fellow.  
_Your enemy now is a dangerous one, and his enemy is just as dangerous. Both will destroy you and all you care for, if you are not careful._  
There, on the hard, tiled floor, Raege collapsed.

Striding quickly beside Farseer Maenilar, Sorael the Outcast spoke in his people's language. He despised the word of man, although he willingly chose to walk amongst them while keeping his origins secret. "Do you believe she will be enough to stop them?"  
"Perhaps. These 'visions of damnation,' as they fancy themselves, are dangerous indeed, even if the time for violence is more immediate a threat. I suppose the girl will find that out herself here when she wakes up." The Farseer said. He had no taste for the lesser languages himself. He'd wasted a good while learning Low Gothic, simply for this sort of occasion.  
Sorael frowned for a split-moment. He and his crew had left Sar-Cyrs a decade ago, but his loyalties were still to his people. His Lord Farseer had taken a great risk to come here.  
Maenilar looked over at his companion. Detecting the concern in him, the old Farseer chuckled and smiled. "You worry far too much. It has been worth it. Besides, we'll be so far-gone as to be impossible to track, by the time the good Brother-Captain Rassal presents himself."

High above the atmosphere, the _Ave Maria's_ old sensors caught sight of something falling through the atmosphere. A large clump of junk, it seemed, that had probably bounced off a close-by Navy ship into the atmosphere. Captain Millia had the operator just log it as debris. That's all something that big and strangely-shaped could be, surely.  
Surely…

Lockwood exhaled deeply, and let herself sink down against the wall of the hab building. This old place wasn't at all like typical city. It was much smaller in scale, and the buildings were all pitifully tiny in comparison to the usual hive spires. It seemed more like some little fantastic place, hidden away in the dense jungles.  
She looked up to the sky in admiration of the beautiful sapphire shades. She ignored the thick, white trail that streaked across and disappeared past the hills in the distance. She recognized it as the kind of trail produced by a larger landing craft. It was just reinforcements for the regiments operating out on the edge.

The vessel had come in too fast. It fired its reverse burners almost too late, and just narrowly avoided a catastrophic collision with the ground. Still, however, it had knocked over a number of the massive trees in the final descent.  
It held there, just hovering above the air for a moment, suspended by anti-grav fields intended to only support it until a landing gear was set in place. Four different sets of these slid out, hydraulics hissing, from the bulbous, rough hull. It put itself down over the clearing, crushing the ruined foliage beneath it.  
A ramp opened up in the back, very close to the thrusters. It creaked once, twice, and then a third time, followed by one louder creak as they stepped down onto the ground. One of them lifted his armored boot out of the muck, groaning in disgust at the mud that caked his white and black armor.  
They hefted their massive weapons, guns so large that normal men couldn't possibly even get their fingers around the grips. The great, block-like things were painted black, detailed with white, with the Aquila set in gold on their sides. Black, white, gold. Those were the three sacred colors. The only areas on the guns colored otherwise were the slide and the barrel stub. They checked their ammunition one last time; all were fully loaded.  
The larger one whirred the multiple barrels of the autocannon mounted to his wrist. His hulking armor was covered in more various patterns of the sacred three, in addition to different takes on their holy symbol, a black stylized cross against a white background. His had the golden Aquila at its center, trailing strips of that color to all four ends of the cross.  
Brother-Captain Rassal, of the Knights Teutonic Space Marine chapter's Third Company looked back to his task force, his 4 hand-picked Knights, and smiled. It was a sinister expression, one that folded back scar-tissue along his cheeks. His face was covered in the glossy marks; some of them from previous battles, others self-inflicted in devotion.  
Their hunt was nearly over. As was their tradition, they hurried down through the forest to descend upon their target - swift and terrifying, like visions of damnation.


	7. Chapter 5

**V  
VISIONS OF DAMNATION**  
_"Nonsense."  
Knights Teutonic Grand Master Heront Klavier, responding to a claim that 500 Marines isn't strong enough for a chapter_

Somebody down on the streets shouted. Screamed was a more accurate description of the sound. Lockwood rose to her feet. She practically jumped at the sound of explosions.  
She hurried over to the edge of the roof, and peered over the tall railing. Guardsmen were firing further down the street. Several were simply running.  
There was a sound, like a thunderous roar, and a moment later a portion of the street exploded as an enormous bolt round crashed into it, blasting apart a lowly soldier as well.  
Lockwood hurried back into the building and down the stairs. She needed to get to her men, she needed to organize them!  
She needed to-  
As she exited out the front, she decided she needed to turn and run back in.  
At the other end of the street, las rounds bouncing off its white armor without so much as even marking it, a demigod approached, firing its huge weapon at the hopeless guardsmen.  
There was absolutely no cover in these streets, Lockwood had already noted. The troops still left in her unit were falling back to get into buildings, but they wouldn't last long either way.  
Their standard las weapons had no hope of penetrating that armor. They weren't intended for use against something like this. There may have been the off-chance they could hit the joints, but who were they kidding? There was no way they'd hit that. With her hellgun, however, Lockwood stood a better chance.  
She took aim. It wasn't a very good chance, but she knew these weapons had potential to harm Astartes power armor, if only in the most pitiful sense. She fired.  
It scorched the Marine's beautiful armor.

Warning alarms, already blaring in Brother Exand's helmet, intensified. A threat indicator appeared, directing his vision off to his left a bit. He could see her, from within a building, firing at him. The alerts told that she'd compromised his armor, and the urgency was getting worse.  
He brought his boltgun to bear on her, and fired off the rest of the clip. The woman ducked back into the building as the massive rounds rocketed down towards where she'd been.  
Exand broke away, heading for cover behind another hab.  
Things were getting interesting.

Her head swirled. Her mind wandered. She was alone amidst a vast sea of nothing, grasping for something to cling to.  
Her thoughts drifted towards Fuklaw, and she grabbed onto the memory of him.  
She missed him dearly. She missed so many people. She missed Uncle Ranc, she missed the few worthy soldiers she'd fought with in the past, she missed the friends she'd made in her career, and she missed her father, as much as he had apparently hated her. John, though, John she missed the most. Everyone else had died for greater causes, but he was alive, so she'd heard. Certainly, she'd let him go, and she'd avoided speaking with him for a short while, but even when the opportunity arose again for them to speak, he almost seemed to have shut her out. There had been no word from him since the day he'd been assigned to a regiment. No astropath messages, no mail, nothing.  
She'd heard rumors. Usually, they made him out to be some sort of incompetent failure. That made her sick.  
He came to her, came to rescue her from her trouble. Initially, his expression was as stern as always. Then he lightened up. Then he smiled. It was a wrong expression for a person like him.  
"It's time to wake up, Commissar." He said soothingly, his voice rasping in his low tone. "You've got things to do."  
"Wake up, Boss." He said.  
"Wake up," He repeated.  
Then his face was replaced by that of Jonquil.

_Boss!_  
Raege moaned.  
_Boss, wake up! We need you!_  
Raege shook herself awake. Where was she? What was she doing there? Why was she even lying on the ground?  
Lancaster's lanky form was hunched over her. Though her face conveyed only a disturbing glee, her mind-voice was frantic. At least, that's how she intended it to be felt.  
"Oh, thank the Emperor, she's here!" Raege heard Firch holler. The Cadian vox officer rushed over, and dutifully set down his voxcaster next to her. "Sir. Calls have stopped coming in from the outer patrols. I've got a feeling there have been some attacks."  
"Eldar?"  
"No, doesn't seem like it."  
"Find out what, then." Raege picked up her cap and put it back in on. "Come on, let's get outside, we need to get to work… where's Boone?" The Commissar looked over her shoulder, out of habit. The girl wasn't there.

_… Which is why, in my humble opinion, it's an absolutely stupid idea to domesticate Toran mantis bears._  
Boone giggled. She let it slip through a telepathic message as well.  
_Oh, like that story, did you, Alice?_  
Trying to suppress her wide grin, she nodded, and then sent another message after realizing Michael couldn't tell. _You've certainly had an interesting career._  
_Oh, you cannot begin to comprehend how 'interesting' things have been for me. Just my last assignment would have been enough to make a person question some of the finer points of our Imperium's definition of threats. I was sent in after being warned that I would be facing dangerous, violence-loving cultists, and what do I get? A pack of underweight wrist-cutters, lead by some runt named Maurice._  
She giggled again.  
Raege had brought Michael for two reasons, those being that she felt the assassin could potentially be of use, and Lockwood had begged her to. It didn't matter to Boone, because she was just happy to be able to talk to him.  
_Michael, you're very charming. I'd court you if you weren't stuck in there._  
_Ah, believe me, my dear Alice, I am flattered. But you wouldn't want to really be very close to me whenever I'm running around outside this box. For the love of the Throne, I need an overdose of some drug that I cannot recall the name of, simply to stand up out of this box. The side-effects include nausea, highly aggressive tendencies, and, ah yes, every lady's favorite, erectile dysfunction._  
Boone laughed loudly, feeling a light blush come to her face.  
_But really though, Alice my dear, I'm a monster once I'm active._  
_I guess you're right… say, that reminds me. If you're frozen in there, then how can you even communicate?_  
_It's simple, really. Don't talk about this, because it's so classified that the Ordos would likely level this entire city to keep the information from getting loose._  
_I won't._ She shook her head as she sent this.  
_Good. Now, because our field of work requires that we be addicted to over a hundred different stimulants, hallucinogenics, and so-on, my fellow Eversor Assassins tend to be incapable of thinking straight. Normally, we receive minor augmetics to our brains, enough to program some vague sense of purpose into us and also to sharpen our abilities, but those don't work quite as well when you're running around in a drug-frenzy. The Medicae team that worked on me decided to take it a step further. They replaced all conscious parts of my head with machinery, so as to allow me to think properly while still maintaining my… violent abilities... to a degree. Of course, the procedure only seemed to work on me, and even then it was a half-success, so I suppose they dropped the project. I'm the only member of my temple that has psychically-reactive augmetics in his head. This kind of technology is ancient, and borders on heretical. As a plus, I am able to stay conscious through even cryogenics. As a negative, I am able to stay conscious through even cryogenics. It gets boring. I've gotten used to it, and I use the time to reflect on things, but it still gets lonely. I'm glad I've got you to talk to, now._  
_I see. You don't need to thank me, the pleasure's all mine._  
_Well I thank you anyway… wait, you'd date me?_  
_Not as it is now._ Boone replied.  
_Why is that?_ The Eversor asked.  
_There's someone else that I've got my eye on._  
_Care to talk about him?_  
_Well, you couldn't really put it that way…_  
_Oh hey ey, TALKING with the box ox are we, Boone oone?_ Lancaster teased. Her lanky form had slipped up behind the smaller psyker when she wasn't looking.  
_He's actually very polite, you should try speaking to him some time, Jonquil._ Boone replied.  
"Boone!"  
She flinched upon hearing her name called by that familiar, stern voice, and jumped up to her feet as Raege approached.  
"Yes'm?"  
"Don't be wandering around in the open when we're in a hostile zone like this."  
"I'm sorry, mam." Boone said, looking away in shame.  
Raege tapped her microbead. "All squads, report in."  
The only response was static.  
Raege turned to Firch. "See what you can do to get me Lockwood. She likely has a better idea of what's going on."  
The vox officer nodded, and got to work.

Eva Neuehoff looked back at her sister and the Vostroyan girl, Zoya Yaroslava. They'd become good friends over the last few weeks, the three of them. Zoya was a huge, powerful woman with an overall cheerful outlook on things. She was larger than some of the men that Eva had been pitted against in the fight clubs. The big Vostroyan could have picked two of them up and smashed them together, most likely.  
Certainly, Angela liked her, but while Eva respected her and saw her as a kind fellow, she wasn't able to befriend the imposing woman quite how her sibling had. Not that she particularly _disliked_ Yaroslava, but she just didn't appreciate the endless talk about tanks that the two engaged in. They always had something different to tell each-other. It was impossible for poor Eva to join in any conversation with them.  
She sat back on the steps of the hab building, resting her head in her palm, and watched as across the street, her sister and Yaroslava laughed at some obscure joke. The other member of their squad was probably lurking about nearby. Eva had forgotten his name, but she recognized him as a sick little twerp. He'd tried to get her to pose for picts to go along with the ones from the baths. Just because Eva and her sister didn't care much that they existed didn't mean they'd let anyone see them unclothed.  
She had a feeling the pervert wasn't above doing something even dumber. Let him try her, she could take him on. She could take anyone on.  
_Where is he, anyway?_ She thought to herself, sticking her head out to look around the street. She hadn't seen him in several minutes.  
Then, as if on cue, he reared his ugly, unshaven head from around the corner.  
"Hey there, Krieg." He said through a sickening grin, stepping up until he was standing over her. Eva could smell something foul on him. Alcohol, she realized.  
"Hey there, drunk." She snapped back.  
He made some expression, as though he'd been hit across the face. "What's with the hostility? You ought to be nicer to people." He stepped out into the open.  
"I don't consider you to be much of a person."  
He chuckled at this.  
"Aw, come on, Krieg. I'm not really such a bad guy, especially once you get to know me."  
As Eva began to respond, something happened that left her sitting there with her jaw hanging within her respirator.  
The man's head seemed to be pulverized inwards, and then it exploded.  
Eva wiped the steaming gore from the eyepieces of her mask, and then got up, taking her lasrifle out of its sling.  
She looked over to her sister and Yaroslava, both of whom were already staring at the mess. "Angela!" She screamed. "We're under attack!"

Kill anyone and anything encountered, that had been the command Brother-Captain Rassal gave them as they spread out around the city. It didn't matter who, and since this was a high-priority mission for the sake of the Knight-Order, even the Imperial Guard was not exempt from that directive. They were useless, Brother-Captain Rassal had reasoned, when it came to hunting eldar. They stumbled along as though they were fighting some typical, overzealous cultist foe. That was embarrassing.  
Brother-Sergeant Cristo's thermal auspex detected three other humanoid-shaped figures, one on one part of the street that was barely hidden by a building, and the other two across the street, again partially hidden.  
He could tell they were beginning to move to retaliate, or retreat, or something.  
Cristo clicked back to the normal spectrum, taking a precious moment to observe his surroundings, then moved up, watching the cover. His chainsword banged against his leg inside its sheath. He took special care of it, for it had become iconic for him. The four men of his squad would follow him, watching in awe as he blasted apart his enemy with his boltgun in one hand, then tear apart the closest with his chainsword in the other hand.  
He probably wouldn't need to use it.  
No, no doubt, he wouldn't need to use it.

Sergeant Lara Minhelm wiped the sweat from her forehead as she checked over her squad. Indeed, the thick, blue-red uniform that she'd been proud to first put on after she'd left training seemed to be the worst thing to wear in this heat. How could it have been so warm?  
Her initial thought was that it was because of the magma flows beneath the ground, but that was silly, because if it was really that close, the ground probably would have collapsed in the heat. She attributed it more to the structure of the city itself. She'd researched the movement of heat before, and it told that when warmth from a star radiated into a space such as this, between tight-packed buildings, it had little room to escape, and so just lingered there. That must have been it.  
"So. None of you are able to reach Patrol Head?" She asked, turning her attention back to her squad.  
They all shook their heads.  
"And you all claim that your microbeads are out?"  
They all nodded their heads.  
"I don't believe that is possible."  
Private Branz raised his hand, and then spoke. "You know, yours is dead as well, Sergeant. It's possible this is all just our neglecting to charge the batteries. It could have weakened the signal strength."  
Minhelm grumbled to herself. This was embarrassing. She felt she had something to prove to Raege after she had allowed her to retain her rank and continue to lead a squad within the unit. This kind of failure would cost her dearly.  
"Very well, very well. At ease, all of you. Spread out, we can at least scout the surroundings. Holler if you find something."  
The squad scattered, and went about to 'scout,' which was better interpreted, to them, as a time to stroll about and not take things seriously.  
It made Minhelm so angry! It was the direct opposite of every moral the Iron Guard had taught her! It was the opposite of everything she stood for! Instead of doing as their superior officer instructed, they were socializing with each-other.  
Throne, she just wanted to kill them.  
Well, none of this nonsense, she decided. She would go out there and investigate herself.  
"Squad!" She yelled after the parting guardsmen. "Form up! We're moving together!"  
There was a loud groan, and then they returned to her, circling around her like children.  
She began to march off down the street, and they followed her, like children.

Raege took a moment to look up the street while Firch continued to toil, and her gaze was locked as soon as she laid eyes on him.  
She hadn't expected to see a Space Marine here, especially not a Terminator. She hadn't heard anything about them coming to assist her team, either.  
She was about wave him over, when the giant did the unthinkable.  
Lumbering towards her, he lifted his wrist-mounted autocannon. She could see the barrels already spinning.  
By the time it started firing, she was already screaming at everyone to get out of the open. Not wanting to lose his new voxcaster, Firch had taken just a few moments longer to pack up. He retreated with a well-practiced calm, lugging the caster across his back.  
Just as he was coming around the bend to join Raege and the others, however, he took a bullet to the leg and fell.  
Raege jumped to help him, and dragged him away on his flak-armored belly. The entire way, he was moaning about the pain. Raege took a moment to look; his ankle had a large chunk of it missing.  
Setting the vox officer down, Raege began to think hard. She'd never fought a Space Marine before, nor had she ever intended to. They were worshipped as demi-gods for a good reason. Nothing she had with her could possibly do the Terminator out there any damage. She hadn't even brought her powerfist with her for this mission.  
Just as she felt she was without hope, she looked back at the black coffin that contained Michael.  
She did have something to fight this guy with.

As Honored Knight-Brother Paterik walked, more and more information on his surroundings was being brought to his attention by his suit's sensors.  
The ground was indeed dangerously thin. The magma field beneath the city was, by his estimates, growing at a rate of about a centimeter every minute. It was quite likely already breaching through the sewer system in some areas, and very soon it would begin erupting out in geysers. He could tell the water down in the sewer system was already boiling at temperatures that would melt flesh.  
This could not possibly be natural. Reportedly, the city's magma lake only had a size-increase rate of less than a meter a year before-hand. There were other forces at work here, and he suspected he knew just which ones.  
Warp-be-damned, he needed to shut off the jamming device and alert Brother-Captain Rassal. Yet, the Brother-Captain himself had given the order for short-range vox signal jamming, and so it was an immutable command.  
He would simply have to finish off these runty guardsmen and then go find the Brother-Captain.  
As Paterik turned the corner, every single alert claxon in his helmet went off, and every warning light flashed. He stumbled backwards as a wailing, leaping body made impact with his armor. As it diced its claws to begin its work, Paterik struggled, and attempted to move his arm to swat it away, but then he realized his arm were no longer responding.. His armor subsystems wailed as it realized both his upper limbs were no longer attached.  
The howling abomination began to dig in, beating down mercilessly with its knife-fingers.  
Paterik screamed all throughout his gruesome death.

Raege came out from behind cover, followed by the rest of her retinue, and watched the scene, both in awe and fear. A spray of blood spattered against the front of her clothes. How it had even been launched that far was beyond her.  
By the time she gave Michael the order to stop, the Terminator's corpse was little more than a pile of cleaved, buckled scrap washed a deep red. The street was painted with the giant's organs.  
Raege stared at the mess. Now she definitely agreed with Lockwood: Eversors were amazing.  
Boone, however, scurried away. She felt sick.  
Not just to her stomach, but she also felt pain in something that was so much more important to her.  
Her heart now ached.

Lockwood ducked as another shell exploded by her. Most of her group was now assisting in what little ways they could. As for the others… she wasn't exactly sure. It was hard to tell in this mayhem, especially with the vox down.  
She cracked off another shot, and managed to burn off one of the exhaust vents on the back of the giant's power pack. The Space Marine ducked back into cover. He was probably cursing at her. The thought amused the Major. She took aim again.  
The Marine jumped out of cover again. She fired again, but the shot glanced off the collar of the giant's armor. By this point the Marine was firing again. The next shell hit the guardsman next to Lockwood in the upper torso, blowing out the contents of his chest cavity.  
Enough was about damned enough, Major Lockwood decided. She took aim again.  
She fired.  
The shot snapped in over the Marine's collar guard, and hit the base of his neck.

Knight-Brother Exand could tell there was a large amount of blood flowing from his neck wound. His body's Larraman cells would cover the injury soon enough, but it would still be critically serious, perhaps even scarring.  
How could he have been so stupid?  
He had let down Brother-Captain Rassal with his carelessness. He was fresh, a new recruit from the hundreds that were selected initially and then the few that had made the cut. He was the only one from his group that had survived the Rite of Ascension. He had taken dominion of an entire planet to make himself a member of a Company. He had been commended time and time again for his outstanding work on his lonesome. He was supposed to have a promising future in the Chapter ahead of him, but he was not so blind as to think that this would not be the end of it.  
Knight-Brother Exand's head, still encased in his horned helmet, flew away from his body as the next shot from Lockwood's hellgun cut through his neck.  
The giant did not fall. All of his joints had locked up. The armored corpse simply stood there, like a white monument.  
Strangely, it seemed to have a sad slump to it.

Lockwood's group cheered all around her and, throwing caution to the wind, huddled around their commander. Certainly there would be severe repercussions, but defeating a Space Marine like that was just the sort of morale booster the men needed to feel they were strong. Raege would have been proud.  
She realized her vox was beeping at her. She clicked her bead on.  
"Patrol one, go ahead."  
"One, this is Head."  
Speaking of Raege…  
"Yeah, Commissar? I hope you've got something important to say, because I've got one hell of a story for you…"  
"Yeah, I definitely have something important to say." Raege responded. "We seem to be under attack by Space Marines."  
"You get hit too?" Lockwood asked.  
"Yes. A Terminator."  
"Holy… and you killed him?"  
"Yeah."  
"Shit, Raege! I know they attacked us, but man! When their chapter finds out, they'll be all over us for this!"  
"I'm aware."  
"Raege, do you even know what chapter it is we're dealing with?" Lockwood looked off in the distance, at the standing body of her kill, so that she could refresh her memory.  
"Judging from his markings, I'd say this guy on our end belonged to the Knights Teutonic." Raege said.  
"Dammit, same here. We're dead now Raege, you hear me? These guys don't play around."  
"Calm down, Major. I'm aware of our situation. I'll have to speak to the Inquisitor. This needs to be cleared up as soon as possible. We have the Codex Astartes on our side anyway, since we killed them in self-defense."  
"Yeah." Lockwood breathed deeply. "So, next set of orders?"  
"I want you to- hold on, something's up."  
A few moments passed. No response came from Raege.  
"Commissar? Commisar?" Lockwood repeated. Still, nothing came back.  
"Raege? Raege, are you alright? Raege!"

Eva was holding fast, as she'd trained to. Angela and Zoya were across the street, firing back.  
They were doing nothing to the giant. Nothing. No damage. The speed it was walking, it seemed as though it wasn't even concerned about their weapons, and it likely had no reason to be, considering how little damage they were doing.  
It raised its bolter, and without even aiming, fired at them. The round smashed into the wall behind Eva, and she felt the blast push at her. This guy was a showoff.  
Things were heating up. Eva was getting seriously warm inside her coat. That never happened  
She dared look to her sister and their friend. The two of them were still huddled behind the same wall, firing back at the ever-closer giant. Then she realized something strange.  
There was a plume of steam rising up from a drainage gutter, off in the distance.  
She was aware then that her palm, touching the pavement, was growing warm through her glove. She took her hand away, and then snapped her attention back to the fight.  
She saw Angela across the street, taking a grenade from her satchel. She watched as her sister pulled out the fuse pin, and brought her arm back to throw the explosive.  
Oh Throne, she knew how this would end.

The lasfire had only ceased for a moment, but immediately Cristo was alert.  
He looked down at the grenade that bounced then rolled towards him, and bumped against the tip of his armored foot. He recognized the shape of it to be a krak grenade, which would shatter his armor like glass if it went off near him. Within a fraction of a second after it had stopped rolling, he was beginning to move away from it. As the grenade imploded, he leapt out of its range.  
The ground cracked under the impact. Then, strangely, the depression that the grenade had created began to deepen. The street crumbled down into the sewer system below, and steam rose up from the pit that had been made.  
Then, as Cristo rose to his feet, the rising steam began to blacken. The ground trembled, and the steady rising of what had once been steam turned to a violent gush. Cristo saw the guardsmen fleeing, shooting unsuccessfully back at him as they went.  
Wherever a crack appeared on the ground, it sent up smoke with it. It was simply too dangerous to remain here, and so Cristo began to run. He could see even more groups of humans running about in confusion, off in the distance. They were hardly concerned about him.  
The streets he passed exploded in a furious release of pyroclastic materials, and then even the ground he ran through sent up the superheated gases and sediment. The surface of his white armor was burnt, and as he escaped one smokescreen, another arose.  
The entire block seemed to collapse, and Cristo went down with it, destroyed in the hellish venting.

Brother-Captain Rassal slid into place down an alleyway, behind the retreating enemy. He'd felt the deaths of Knight-Brother Exand and Honored-Brother Paterik, for Paterik's jamming device had been disabled before his evisceration, and their losses only enraged him. As Paterik had been closer, Rassal had ordered Brother-Sergeant Deadax to help him avenge the warrior's death. Paterik had been a dear friend. The old Marine had previously held Rassal's own current position as captain of the Third Company, until the Chapter Master had declared him worthy to wear Tactical Dreadnought Armor. Paterik had been through a good quarter of the chapter's history; he'd fought in the Knight-Order for several hundred years. Such a loss was unacceptable. The wretched, inferior guardsmen would suffer for this. Rassal would personally carve the face from the skull that pretty little leader of theirs, and then he would stitch it into his cape.  
He drew his power sword, but then as he began to step into the open to go after his targets, he hesitated as a new sensation hit his mind.  
Cristo was dead.  
Rassal could feel tears coming to his eyes. How could this be happening? Three marines were dead. Three glorious members of the Knights Teutonic, friends, war-bonded brethren, had been defeated by something as insignificant as guardsmen. This was a great shame upon Rassal.  
He stepped out into the open, for he still needed to fight.

Raege turned, and saw the Captain appear almost out of nowhere.  
"Oh shit!" She yelled, and began to hopelessly fire her autopistol at him. It did nothing, instead bouncing off the protective field which shrouded the Marine  
He lifted up its boltgun, and began to fire.  
Now there were to of those things firing at them, and there was little doubt in Raege's mind that they weren't going to be able to evade the shots any longer.  
Then, another squad appeared from one end of the street - Minhelm's, Raege realized - and began firing at the shielded Marine. He turned his attention to them, allowing Raege enough time to get her own squad away.  
Michael leapt at the Captain, and his effort to grab on was refused by the Marine's power sword. They danced about for a moment, evading one-another's attacks, cautious las rounds streaking past.  
They stopped their fighting as Raege called Michael back. More and more guardsmen were piling in now, and the Captain was cut off from his ally.

"Go!" Brother-Sergeant Deadax urged his Captain over vox. "I'll meet with you back at the lander in a few minutes. This battle is lost!"  
"Don't say that. Be sure to get out of here." Rassal responded, and then, reluctantly slipped away, lasfire uselessly chasing him until it was pointless.  
Deadax felled another three guardsmen with two shots. Then he unsheathed his chainsword, and charged at the others.  
He tore apart another five guardsmen, and then he began to feel a swelling sensation in his head. He realized his nose was bleeding, and so were his tear ducts.  
Within his armor, his entire body ruptured. His head exploded, and his body fell backwards.

"Throne, nice work Quill." Raege said, patting the tall psyker on the back. "Alright, let's pack up and get out of here. This has been one hell of a day."  
Michael appeared, then carrying his container. When he saw Boone, he seemed to shy away. Boone herself turned her back to him.  
The ground shook, then. It had been doing that for a while now, but Raege had thought little of it.  
Her microbead chimed, and she responded.  
"Patrol Head, this is Patrol Twelve." Eva announced.  
"Go ahead, Twelve." Raege responded.  
"The city's falling apart, that magma pool underground is coming up to the surface. We need to get out of here."  
Goodness, the Krieg sisters didn't understand the concept of fear. "Alright, alright, meet us at the extraction point. I'm calling for evac."  
"Understood. Patrol Twelve, out."  
Raege turned to her squad. "We need to get out of here. Now."  
Steam rose from sewer drains as they hurried past rows of buildings. Its intensity grew as time passed. Squads were running everywhere, almost completely disorganized in the rush.  
Raege looked back. The pavement was buckling in the distance, smoke was rising wherever possible. As Raege stopped to catch her breath, there was an ear-shattering sound, an explosion, and the air itself shook. A huge mushroom cloud of black soot rocketed up from the city, and buildings fell as they were claimed by the eruption.  
Raege sighed with relief, for a good portion of her unit was still with her, safe and sound.  
Lockwood stepped up to her, and saluted. The two discussed what to do next, and then, they ordered the rest of the unit to move further away from the hole that had once been Salorn.  
Looking back one last time, through the tree line, at the hell that had been a city, Raege bit her lip in frustration.  
What a waste of men.

The bright halls of the chapter fortress were silent. It was unusual, Tactician Tyreon Dryd noted. The occupants were typically louder.  
As he approached the massive black-gold gates of the Grand Master's chamber, a pitiful begging assaulted his ears from beyond the parted doors. Dryd smiled. Not exactly the rowdy conversations of the Knight-Brothers, but at least it was noise.  
Dryd entered the chamber. The guards at both ends of the gate paid him no heed. Within the chamber, a good hundred meters away, the Grand Master stood in front of his throne.  
At his feet, the source of the pitiful weeping was kneeling. Brother-Captain Rassal had come back as the only survivor of his task force. Most of the Grand Master's staff suspected he'd be executed.  
This contradicted what Dryd was hearing, however.  
"Please, my Lord!" Rassal cried. "Do it! Kill me!"  
"Child, you are not listening to me." Grand Master Heront Klavier's voice rumbled low, sending a exciting chill down Dryd's spine.  
"I'm a disgrace! My carelessness has killed four of the chapter's best!"  
"Rassal. Look at me."  
Apparently the captain did as instructed.  
"I will not kill you for two reasons. The first is that it would be a waste of a Marine. The second, is that we all make mistakes such as these. We must live with them. You have been bested, and while I frown upon this, it happens. Don't worry so much about it." The Grand Master explained. "Now, please, leave me."  
The Captain rose to his feet, and quickly left, practically stumbling.  
Dryd watched him go through the doors, which shut behind him, and then he stepped forward to the Grand Master.  
"You know, it's a shame Tyreon." Klavier said, sitting down, and resting his head against his knuckles. "We should have picked you up as a child. You'd have made a great Space Marine. Perhaps we could have caught this blasted Farseer sooner with your mind."  
"I am flattered, Heront." Dryd said.  
Klavier snorted. "Don't bother being so. You're of great use as it is. So, what have you gathered?"  
Dryd pulled a dataslate from the sandwich of files he had tucked under his arm. He thumbed it on with the hand in which he held it, being unable to use the other hand, and began reading the information displayed.  
"The face the Lexicanum pulled from Brother-Captain Rassal's memory has been identified as 'Conrad F. Raege,' commissar, female despite her name, age eighty five, born on Kuluth. She was taught at the Schola Progenium on Heterodyne following the suicide of her father, Michael Raege. She spent forty years serving with the Guard, namely with the Kuluthian 113th - who she spent seven years with - until she was retired from active service due to a controversy over a number of executions she committed on the field. She returned to Heterodyne and taught there for a number of years before she retired to Reth about eight months ago." Dryd said. "She is well-known to be attractive,"  
"Oh, taking a fancy to her, are we?" Klavier joked, a smug grin forming across his face.  
Dryd chuckled, then continued. "She is well-known to be attractive, black-haired, and bears a scar down between her eyes, across her nose and ending below her left eye, the likes of which was apparently inflicted upon her by her father in her adolescence."  
"She has taken juvenat every few decades, making her appear to be a young woman in her late twenties or early thirties." Dryd shut the dataslate off. "She fits the bill in every way. This is our woman."  
"Might I ask where you got all this information from?" Klavier asked.  
"The Administratum offices at Scintilla. Might I add, it's amazing what waving your seal around will do to convince people?"  
"You said she was retired. Why has she appeared to us now, leading men to battle?" Klavier asked.  
"I honestly don't know the answer to that, Lord." Dryd replied. "I suppose it's possible she may be leading some sort of terror cell, or maybe she made a deal with our elusive eldar to provide them with protection."  
"I see. Regardless, her actions have directly killed four members of the Knight-Order. She is now our enemy, and she will be made to pay for this." The Grand Master stood up. "Go. Gather up the Council, and prepare to hunt this wench down."  
Dryd bowed, and left.


	8. Chapter 6

**VI  
PREDATOR RISING**  
_"Blessed be thy fury, cursed be thy foe. "  
Annals of Anger, XXI_

"You took a great risk by going there, Maenilar."  
The tired Maenilar lifted his head to look directly at his lord. Even with the two separated by the bright blue glow of the portal to the bio-dome below, he could clearly see the disdain on her face. "I understand, Lieara, but it was something that ought to have been done by no others."  
Such was the young Seer's nature; he had often been at odds with the rest of the Sar-Cyrs Seer Conclave for his direct approach to things, within a group renowned for its indirectness.  
Farseer Lieara, Lord of the Conclave, guiding soul of Sar-Cyrs, shifted uncomfortably in her wraithbone throne. She understood where Maenilar was going with this - none of the Warlocks could have bent the human girl's strong will quite like he had. "I understand. Then, did you pay homage to our dead relatives there?"  
Maenilar nodded. "I visited the Focus Point at Nornl. The Spirit remains undefiled. However, the long-deceased are worried about the current state of affairs."  
"They have right to be." Lieara replied. "The situation is dire. In fact, I ought to send for the Autarch's force when the time comes -"  
"That won't be necessary." Conclave Member Roedaelar interrupted, rising to his feet. "It will also prove disastrous, in fact. I've already consulted the fates on the matter. The woman will be all that is necessary, and any interruption on our part will upset the path that time now travels."  
Lieara ran a hand through her red hair, her face growing warm with the embarrassment of making such a hasty suggestion, only to be swatted aside by Roedalar. Roedaelar's word was trusted by all, herself included. "Very well. I call this meeting adjourned, then. She pushed against the arms of her throne, and rose to her feet. The other Seers present did so as well. They began to file out, conversing with their Warlocks in review of the Conclave's meeting.  
Maenilar, the last Seer remaining, made to leave.  
_Wait, Maenilar._  
The young Seer stopped, and looked back. Lieara circled around the bio-dome portal to meet him.  
_Lord?_ Maenilar asked.  
_I apologize, I was irrational today._ She explained. The quiet whispers of the pervading dead surrounded them, interests directed towards the conversation of the two seers. _It was shameful of me to say such things._  
_You mustn't worry of it, Lord._ Maenilar assured.  
_Very well._ Lieara nodded. _But, there is further trouble. I fear that our nemesis Klavier is sending his soldiers to exact vengeance on the human girl. She'll be killed if nothing is done._  
_Then, what do you suggest?_Maenilar asked.  
_I will send a detachment of Avengers to act as guardians for the girl… from afar, of course. Surely Exarch Naechar will be able to handle the situation._  
_I thank you, Lieara._ Maenilar bowed.  
_No, it is you who requires thanking, brother. You discovered the very main character of this play which we conduct. I simply do my part._  
Maenilar exited, calling for his Warlocks, and Lieara turned, alone, to the glow of the portal.

Certain she was alone, Boone slid the door shut, and scurried in. She took her seat on a box of soap that had unwittingly been laid in front of Michael's crate. For a moment, she was quiet, unable to send anything to him - unwilling, rather.  
After a good five minutes of silence, she sent something. _Hello._  
_Ah, hello Boone._ The Eversor immediately responded. He was eager to speak, for they hadn't said a thing to each other in the entire week that had passed since the fighting at Salorn. _I was just considering the fallacy of the message behind Landr's Ninety Entrapments._  
_Oh?_  
_Landr was heavily scrutinized for his writing, because many particularly paranoid Ecclesiarchy preachers suspected he was alluding, through his book's peculiar plot and characters, that the current Ecclesiarchy does not follow the Emperor's true plans for the Imperium._ Michael explained.  
Boone remained silent, hardly listening.  
_Indeed, Landr was actually questioned by the Inquisition, and ultimately found innocent, but it is clear to me that in his story he is suggesting the Ecclesiarchy is corrupt._  
_How did you even get to read that?_  
It was quiet as Michael searched for a proper response. _To be honest, I don't know. I just realized I knew about this man and his writing. I guess it may be a leftover of my life… before I was put in the temple._  
_Do you remember anything about who you were?_ Boone prodded.  
_No, strangely. A side-effect of the surgery, I suppose. I admit, I've often wondered just what I was before I was turned into this. Was I a pitiful addict wasting away in a slum? A tough soldier that attracted some attention? A mass-murderer?_  
That last suggestion sent Boone over the edge. She jumped to her feet, and then screamed, half-vocal and half-telepathic, "How can you even kill like that?"  
_What do you mean?_  
Boone's legs quivered. "Like how you did back in that city! How you brutalized that Marine!" She yelled again.  
_I simply did my job._ Michael replied, calmly.  
Boone began to sob, and kicked the "canned eggs" crate. _It's… it's so horrible!_  
_But my dear, it is a horror we must endure, for our sakes, and for the sakes of those yet to come._  
_But there must be another way!_ Boone exclaimed.  
_Calm down, Alice. Your letting your emotions get in the way of your thinking. I am an Eversor Assassin, one of the most brutal of all the killing machines in the Emperor's service. It is my duty to kill, kill, kill and kill those who endanger His work. Commissar Raege is conducting His work on behalf of the Inquisitor, and the Space Marine endangered that servitude, and so I had to kill him. War is the only thing we humans have now. In order to wrest any mere slice of prosperity for my fellow men, I must destroy the enemies of the Imperium. They are innumerable, without uniform, and the duty will only end in death... but it is truly worth it, if it gives a lowly hive-born child, somewhere out there, a chance to live._  
Boone breathed heavily, fists balled tightly.  
_Boone?_  
Boone collapsed into full-fledged crying, sprawling herself over the container, pounding every few seconds against its cold exterior.  
_Alice…_ Michael sent softly, but Boone did not pay heed.

Lockwood paced around the floor in front of the two beds. It was a nervous habit that only ever appeared when she was especially concerned about something. Raege watched her, sitting on the edge of her own oversized bed; both of them were set for sleep, wearing only their undershirts and undershorts. Their next sets of clothes were hung up besides their beds.  
The unit had settled in at a tourist lodge after Salorn went under. All their emergency funds would likely be spent on this, but Raege felt it was useful to add to the unit's feeling of accomplishment. Raege put aside her own feelings of discontent towards the fact that the mess at Salorn had cost her over twenty men, for this was a chance to do her job as she had never done it before.  
After a week of well-earned rest, or so Raege put it, they would return to the _Ave Maria_ and continue again with work.  
On the floor below their suite, the men were enjoying themselves. They were loud and rowdy, and had been very inappropriate with the staff, but Raege had expected all this. They were having fun after an incredible mission. It was good for them.  
Lockwood finally stopped, looked at Raege, then down at the floor, and then looked at Raege again after deciding what to say. "So, here is where we stand." She began, holding her finger up. "We have not accomplished the primary mission goal - learning the reason for the eldar's presence here - we have lost twenty four guardsmen, and taken ten wounded, five of which are touch-and-go, and here's the big one: We are quite likely on bad terms with the most violent Space Marines in the entire Segmentum. What a friggin' wonderful time we've had!"  
"Calm down, Lockwood." Raege said calmly, leaning back.  
"How the hell am I supposed to calm down?" Lockwood snapped. Then she blinked, realizing just how out-of-place she was, and quickly saluted. "I… I apologize. That was uncalled for, me yelling at you like that."  
"It's fine, and I understand where you're coming from. But from what I see, that incident was more beneficial than anything else. The troops are confident now, because they took on and defeated a squad of the most powerful troops in the galaxy. They feel they can do anything."  
"The problem is, Boss, they can't." Lockwood argued.  
"I'm aware of that, Major. Morale is hardly based on the reality of things. To keep them fighting, the troops must be optimistic about the outcome. Do you not hear that?" She tapped the floor with her foot. "They feel great. They'd be willing to charge into the Eye itself, in this sort of mood. If I were to go down there and tell them that they were as good as dead for what they did, and that half those marines died from freak-acts of nature, then that would worry them. Worried troops get scared, and scared troops run away from the first sign of danger. It's just the way it works."  
Lockwood sighed. "I see your point. So what do you suggest we do, at any rate?"  
Raege reclined further back, and let herself drop against the mattress. "We should send a message of apology to Prosson as soon as we leave, tomorrow. After that's delivered, they might just consider leaving us be."  
"Maybe…" Lockwood sat down on her own bed. "Say, Commissar, you hungry? I sure as hell am. Let's order up something."  
Silence.  
"Raege?" She said again, and looked over, but the Commissar was fast asleep.

Dryd sat patiently at the table, though his assistants, who would be shortly dismissed anyway, were still fidgeting nervously from the closeness to the masked horror across the table. While Herick didn't seem very aware of this fear, Dryd had no doubt the old psyker could sense it, and was amused. The Grand Master had been brooding silently in his throne at the far end of the table, a far cry from his usual cheeriness. He was always like this before Council meetings.  
Beside Dryd, Shirsrall had taken his seat. The old Arms Master was a few hundred years older than Klavier himself, quite possibly the oldest member of the Knight-Order, besides the sleeping Elders. He and Dryd had become good associates over the decades.  
Any minute, Rordret would come rushing in, and a few moments behind him Petarek too. He certainly hoped so, anyway. The present atmosphere was killing him.  
Then, in line with Dryd's ability to predict things, Brother-Captain Rordret of the First Company burst in through the doorway, and jogged over to his seat. He bowed to his Grand Master, and then nodded to his associates at the table. A minute later, Terminator-Lord Petarek appeared, bowed to his Grand Master, acknowledged the others with assorted nods, and stood behind his seat; he and Herick never dispensed of their armor, and so no conventional chair could conveniently seat them.  
Dryd sent away his adjutants, the two of whom scurried out as quickly as possible. Klavier leaned forward. "Brothers, my friends," he said in greeting "I thank you for coming on such short notice, and I apologize for any business this may be interrupting. You in particular have my most sincere condolences, Brother-Captain." He gestured to Rordret. "I am taking precious time away from your subjugation of Ireax. But the present situation is far more important than the work on that cesspool. Recall, if you will, Brother-Captain Rassal's hunt for the eldar which infest the Calixis Sector. His work hit what I suppose you could consider a bad turn. His kill-team was eliminated by what appeared to be the standard rank-and-file Guardsmen."  
Rordret huffed. "If that's the case, then they had no right to wear the Knight-Order's emblem. It is better for us that such idiots died, for we are more pure with their losses."  
Klavier nodded. "Indeed, I agree with you. Most of his team was embarassingly useless. However, regardless of Rassal's bad choice of companionship, we lost four Knights. Amongst them was Honored-Brother Paterik."  
Herick shifted about as though he was uncomfortable; Petarek, though quiet as ever, was likely growing angry.  
"Was any of their armor recovered?" Shirsrall spoke up.  
Klavier closed his eyes, and made a sorrowful expression. "Only one single suit was recovered."  
Dryd looked over at Shirsrall. The old man looked prepared to explode with fury. He took his Chapter's equipment very seriously.  
"The perpetrator, as Brother Dryd has identified, is this woman." Klavier pressed a button on the edge of the tabletop, and a holographic grid appeared on its sleek black surface. "Commissar Conrad Raege." A pict appeared over the grid, depicting the Commissar. She was looking sideways, as though speaking to somebody else. Another image popped up next to it, this one a posed portrait of her full face, meant for a profiling. A third box, containing such fast-scrolling data that, coupled with the small size of the text was effectively impossible to read for a normal human. It was all already known to Dryd, for he had been the one to compile it; every bit of information, from Raege's latest location to her favored type of music. Dryd observed Rordret and Shirsrall staring at the images; every tenth of a second each would blink, then continue to do so in patterns resembling a pictographer's. They were collecting the information.  
"So, brothers… what shall we do with this wench?" Klavier asked.  
"What she has done is unforgivable. She must be hunted down and made an example of." Rordret said coolly. A turnaround, Dryd noted, from his original position on the deaths.  
"But who do you suggest we send?" Klavier asked.  
"I would have Brother-Captain Rassal sent, as penance for his carelessness." Rordret responded.  
_Not a true turnaround,_ Dryd corrected himself. He spoke up then. "It would be too wasteful to devote even one more Marine to this effort. They are busy elsewhere." That comment, he realized, put him on thin ice, so he attempted to save the situation: "But, might I suggest we seek help from the Realm's Guard regiments? There are a few specialist teams that may be able to help us. They're not doing anything else, anyway. They need practice, so why not send them to deal with her?"  
Klavier likely immediately favored this suggestion, but he sat quiet, looking as though he was pondering it for a moment. Then he nodded. "Very well. Find out where Raege is going, and then send the hounds after her."  
"May I get to that, sir?"  
"Yes, you may."  
Dryd nodded his thanks, and left as the others continued to speak.

Raege woke up to the early-morning dim. Light shone through the windows, peppered with the shadows of the grove outside the lodge. In the other bed, Major Lockwood slumbered, a cluster of rotgut and amasec bottles on the nightstand beside her. Even the Major didn't usually drink that much before bed; she had likely gotten into a nervous fit.  
Raege slipped out of her cot, and put her uniform on. She needed to go wake the troops, and she needed to go get Michael ready for transport.  
She passed the doors, knocking on each one she passed and yelling for their occupants to get up and dressed.  
As she gave the door to Boone's room a rap it pushed open, not fully closed. Concerned, Raege stuck her head in to look; no sign of Boone anywhere.  
"Boone?" She called. She was not answered. She stood idle for a moment, then walked back out into the hall. "Boone? Has anyone seen her?"

With a jolt, Boone was awake. She lay huddled over Michael's container. Her head pounded terribly. She was cold. She must have fallen asleep bawling over the assassin.  
"Michael?..." She whispered, but then remembered herself. _Michael?_ She sent.  
_I am here. Good morning._ He replied. He attempted to sound soothing, and she appreciated that more than she dared let on.  
_How long have I been out?_  
_By my estimates, five hours and thirty minutes. Listen, Alice, I'm sorry that I've upset you-_  
_Don't talk about that, please._ In retrospect, Boone felt she'd overdone it the night before. She was guilty.  
_If you wish…_  
Both of them were quiet, then. Boone wanted to say something, to fix the gap between them which she had made, but she couldn't come up with anything.  
The storage room door opened, then. Boone heard the clicking that could only be made by the steps of Raege's boots.  
"Boone?" The Commissar's voice echoed. "Are you in here?"  
"I am, Mam." Boone called back, hopping up to greet Raege.  
"What are you doing back in here?" Raege asked. Her attention was quickly drawn to the fact that Boone's eyes were bloodshot, the skin around them puffy and irritated. "Have you been crying, Alice?"  
"No."  
Raege could clearly tell she was lying, but let it go. "Go pack your things. We're leaving the planet in a few hours."  
"Yes, Mam."  
Raege left then, and Boone lingered for a moment.  
_I'll talk to you later, Michael._ She sent, to the killer in the container.  
_Until then, Alice._

The proximity hurt Jonquil like a billion knives carving into her head. She didn't care. The pain was exhilarating. Besides, it was unimportant when weighed against the enjoyment of Nada's company. She'd returned to the ship a few days earlier than the others simply for this reason.  
Neither would speak. Jonquil couldn't, and respectfully, the Culexus remained quiet as well. For hours, they'd sit together in the room Nada had claimed as hers, either content with the company, or performing some other triviality.  
This time, as was a favorite of hers, Nada had engaged herself with feeling Lancaster's long, white hair. Bizarrely, it had retained some pleasant softness in spite of the rest of her body.  
Dearly, Jonquil wished to be able to talk. She wanted to be able to move her mouth again, to use her facial expressions… at least she looked always happy.  
Things had been strange since the incident at Salorn. Jonquil had been uneasy. She'd felt as though something was following her, some great power of the Warp. It didn't have the feel of a daemon; she knew what that was like. It felt more controlled, notably organized, and yet equally intimidating. This was a large part of the reason she had returned to the ship so early, to contemplate this. The feeling would be remedied, she had known, with a visit to Nada.  
To Nada…  
Her vision blurred to the extent that her augmetics permitted. She felt dizzy beneath the throbs of pain the Culexus gave off.  
Nada let go of Jonquil's hair as she started shaking her head around in an attempt to stay conscious. The tall psyker gracelessly slumped, and fell face-first to the floor.  
"Jonquil…" Whispered the Culexus, full of as much emotion as she could muster up.

Artificial blue-white starlight brightened the entirety of the central dome. Tree-like columns of wraithbone rose up in all directions, yet consciously remained within the boundaries of some building plan. _Sar-Cyrs was as beautiful as she was deadly,_ Maenilar considered proudly as his platform rose past the various sights. Grav-vehicles zoomed past, weaving between the habitation spires. Maenilar returned the greetings of a pair of young lovers as they sped past on a jetbike.  
His conduit lift finally stopped at the top perch of the spire. The Dire Avengers Aspect House on Sar-Cyrs stood tall before him.  
Sitting at the edge facing the rest of the dome was a lone Aspect Warrior, deep in meditation, clad in the dark blue and white robes of the Sar-Cyrs House.  
As Maenilar approached, the Warrior remained still. "I welcome you once more to the Hand of Asuryan's temple, Farseer Maenilar." She said, and stood up, garb flowing into place, completely concealing every part of her body, with the exception of her head.  
"Master Naechar." Maenilar bowed. "I assume that Lieara has already paid a visit to you?"  
"She has." Naechar nodded. "I assume that you know she informed me to expect you?"  
Maenilar smiled. "Yes."  
"Good, then." Naechar stepped over to him. "Come, walk with me."  
Maenilar followed behind the Exarch, up into the Aspect House. "I shall leave with my warriors soon to watch after the human girl. Did you come here to send your blessings?"  
"I am aware. And no, I'm not here for that." Maenilar stopped, and turned to the Exarch. "I wish to join you in this endeavor."  
Naechar was silent for a moment, staring at him. She turned, and continued walking. "I wouldn't suggest that, my friend…" She said. "You know, certainly, how dangerous Klavier's warriors are."  
"Naturally." Maenilar said, following after her. "But regardless, I must go. You are aware, surely, that you shall need mine and my Warlocks' help. The Knights are vengeful monsters, you know this. They'll send their worst after the girl, and it will be more than enough for you to handle."  
"I would have to beg to differ." Naechar responded. "You give the Avengers too little credit."  
"No. I give your warriors all the credit I possibly can. You've successfully hunted the Knights for centuries. It is thanks to your efforts that their expansions have been slowed, but things are going to go far worse this time around."  
Naechar stopped again, and turned to the Farseer. "Then I assume you've foreseen this also?"  
"I have."  
The Exarch sighed. "I cannot challenge your wishes, either way. Very well."  
Maenilar bowed. "I thank you for seeing things as I do. I shall be there at your departure. Until next, Master Naechar."  
Naechar nodded. "Until next, Farseer."

"Ah! Conrad!" Levy smiled, waving in the Commissar. "Come in, come in! I came over as soon as you called!" He pushed aside the redundant clutter on the table he'd made into his temporary desk aboard the _Ave Maria_. Raege sat down across from him.  
"So, Commissar," Levy began, taking a bottle of amasec and a pair of glasses out from his belongings "why don't you go ahead and tell me how things went at Salorn?"  
"Not in the least bit pleasant." Raege admitted. "We found no trace of the eldar, but instead, we were attacked by Space Marines."  
Levy's usual smile disappeared. He squinted his eyes, and tilted his head. "You were attacked… by Marines?"  
Raege nodded. "We were."  
"What Chapter? Do you have any idea?"  
"Judging from their armor patterns and colors, we suspect it was the Knights Teutonic."  
Levy blinked. "Well… that's quite concerning… but why would the Knights be all the way out here? They're based off towards the Halo Stars."  
"I'm not sure, but we killed the Marines that attacked us. I suspect they aren't too pleased with that."  
"Very well, then. Not to worry, Conrad." Levy stood up, and began looking through his cabinets behind him. Raege blinked several times.  
"I will send a message with the utmost haste to Prosson, to Grand Master Heront Klavier directly!"  
Raege shook her head, as though attempting to brush something from her face. She rubbed her forehead.  
Levy turned around. "We will get this matter sorted out, as soon as possible!" He looked down at Raege, and raised an eyebrow. "Conrad, are you alright?"  
"Levy…" Raege said under her breath. The Inquisitor leaned forward. "You're looking in the wrong spots. Kranenstaz is a Sar-Cyrs word meaning 'time for violence.'"  
Levy stared at her for several seconds. Raege blinked again, and looked up at him expectantly. "You'll be sure to get something to the Knights as soon as possible?"  
Levy hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, yes. I'll send an apology for everything immediately. In the mean-time, we're done with this planet. There's some business with orks I need you to deal with. We'll be leaving to deal with that shortly. Thank you, Raege."  
The Commissar stood up, bowed, and then left. After the door closed, Levy simply stared off in its direction. A few seconds later, he ran a hand over his face and sat down. "'Time for violence,' they said…"

As Raege paced down the halls, she heard the characteristic footsteps of Boone. The little woman was jogging down the junction she'd just passed.  
The Commissar turned just in time to see her adjutant skid to a halt. "Conr- I mean, Commissar, Mam. The infirmary warden wanted to see you."  
"What for?" Raege asked.  
"Lancaster was admitted there earlier."  
Raege said nothing; she began to run down the hall as quickly as her footwear allowed.

"How long as she been here?"  
"That Pariah brought her in about two hours before you came aboard."  
The Commissar looked from Jonquil's cot to the warden. "Nada brought her up?"  
"If that's the name of the soulless girl with the freaky augmetics and the bodyglove, then yes."  
Raege turned back to the sleeping form of Jonquil.  
The old warden stepped back. "When she was brought in, our auspex discovered her vitals were in a frenzy. Her brain activity was absolutely bizarre, even for a psyker."  
"Is she alright now?" Raege asked.  
The warden nodded. "She actually ought to be awake pretty soon, but this was such an odd case I thought I'd have you informed."  
"I see. Thank you, sir."  
The warden went to tend to his other patients. Raege gave Lancaster a nudge. "Quill… Quill, can you hear me?"  
The psyker groaned.  
_Hello, Boss._  
"Mind explaining to me why the Culexus brought you to the infirmary?"  
_I'm sorry, Raege. Nada's my friend, I was visiting with her..._  
"You what?"  
The others present in the infirmary turned their heads. The Commissar coughed.  
"You visited with her?" Raege asked, silently.  
_Yes. I've been doing it a while, we like to be together. I wasn't expecting it would hurt so much that it'd knock me out…_  
"I see. Kindly do me a favor, and be more careful from now-on. If you two enjoy one-another's company so much, I can go down with you every so often, but please, avoid going without someone to watch you."  
_Understood, Boss._  
"Alright. I'll see you around." Raege got up to leave.  
_Wait… there's one thing._  
"Hm?" Raege looked back to Jonquil.  
_I've got this feeling, Raege… like I'm being watched._  
"By another psyker?"  
_No, it doesn't feel like another psyker, but it's got this warp-touched feeling to it._  
"A daemon?" Raege suggested.  
Lancaster shook her head. _No, no, definitely not. They have a more murderous, primeval presence… this was more sophisticated, intelligent._  
"Right…" Raege took a step back. "Be sure to tell me if you feel it again."  
_I will, Commissar. Thank you for visiting._  
As Raege stepped out, she considered the possibility that a daemon had set its sights on Jonquil Lancaster. It was highly likely, but one thing bothered her:  
That one thing was the fact that she felt like she was being watched as well.


	9. Chapter 7

**VII**  
**THE HUNT**  
_"Only a fool angers a predatory beast."_  
_- Old Imperial adage_

The Commissar could feel herself fading in and out of consciousness. The world which surrounded her seemed completely distant, and all sound was deafened by her own infinitely loud heartbeat, and heaving sobs whose feminine source she did not see.  
She was certain she had received a major concussion and was bleeding, but she felt no pain – in fact, she felt nothing.  
Her own unreliable sense of sight told her she was on her hands and knees. She made an effort to stand, which failed quickly as her legs refused to work properly; she guessed they were shattered.  
She looked about. Her blurred gaze told her the clouds in the sky had turned red in the fury of war. Around her, corpses laid, drained of blood by horrific injuries.  
In spite of the near-uselessness of her eyes, she could identify quite clearly the remains of Major Lockwood, pallid, blankly staring. Heaped over her was another Cadian, immediately unidentifiable as they lacked a head. Both the bodies looked as if they had been picked at by carrion-beasts.  
That sobbing which had first greeted her ears grew louder.  
She saw Lancaster: Her face was burnt away, along with much of the bone which had been beneath it, but the augmetics remained to make her ashen remnants recognizable.  
The sobbing was now the only thing Raege could hear. It was a shrill sound, which revitalized her dying mind. She turned her body in what she knew was the direction from which the noise originated.  
There, she found Boone bowed away from her, kneeling over a body. Raege called to her, but the meek psyker did not respond; the only sign that she was even animate was the frequency with which her shoulders bobbed up and down with her pained heaves.  
Raege's feet suddenly now worked. She was aware that all the carcasses of her allies had disappeared, save for the one which Boone was huddled over. This one fascinated her the most, and as she came closer, she realized it was her own.  
Boone became quiet, and then slowly, turned her head. The whites of her eyes had turned black, and countless red veins glowed as though fires burned within them. Her skin was deathly pale, and the dye in her hair was disintegrating, leaving it a pure white mess.  
Her mouth moved, she uttered an unheard apology, an attempt to explain herself. All the while, the flesh of her face necrotized, chipping off like clay.  
As the last of her flesh gave way to a smoldering layer, she opened her mouth as though to speak, but it simply hung open dumbly for several seconds. "Conrad…" She spoke in a pleading tone, her voice now hearable, yet hardly clear; there was something else there, something else speaking. "Kill me. Please, kill me."

Raege woke, then. Gasping, aware she had only narrowly stopped herself from outright screaming, she scanned her room with widened eyes. The only source of illumination was a glow lamp which sat on her desk, and with only that she could tell she was alone.  
She remained sitting up for several minutes, until she finally came to a vague calmness; then she laid her head back. She did not return to sleep, however. What she had witnessed pressed too heavily upon her mind.  
There she remained, fully conscious, until the wake-up routine began.

A rune exploded, though its debris did not disturb any member of the gathering. Roedaelar understood they had overstepped their boundaries.  
As the warp energies which surrounded him began to wither away, Roedaelar's feet returned to the floor which they had previously been in defiance of. The other Seers were synchronously aware of his disengagement, and slowly, cautiously, they calmed their own spirits.  
One, the youthful Eurenliae, fell to his knees - not of exhaustion, but of pure awe.  
"That was incredible." He said, shivering in fear so pure it made him physically cold. "That power which challenged us... raw and brutal, yet guided by something great and sharp."  
Roedaelar squinted at him; he understood all too well the destructive power of what he had just combated in the Warp, in a fight so desperate and violent that it caused all manner of phenomena upon the minds of those whom he was intent to protect:  
Herick. Lord of the Librarium of the accursed Knights Teutonic, and the most hideously strong human warp-wielder he had ever encountered.

"Enough!" Herick shouted through his helmet's vox. "Enough!"  
The warp energies which surrounded the circle of Epistolaries, and the valance of lesser Librarians, ceased. Herick looked around at the Marines who orbited him from his center position on the altar. At the farthest circle, he spotted the Apothecaries rushing to aid two Lexicania who had fallen unconscious from the sudden disengagement. Four of the lesser slave-psykers had been reduced to lifeless husks.  
Herick pounded his armored fist upon the central pedestal of the circular array, splashing blessed water from the altar basin onto his armored bulk. They had been so close to finding her! Yet at that last moment, some force of the Warp reared itself upon his Chorus! In the span of five seconds, they had gone from pinpointing the location of Raege to fighting a stalemate.  
It was the wretched Eldar, he knew it. No force could have been that well-coordinated besides those most hated Xenos.  
"It would seem we have been stopped at yet another turn." Epistolary Eraurius grumbled, ascending a few steps below where Herick stood.  
"It is only a set-back." Responded the Master Lexicanum, as was the honorific given to Herick by the Knights.  
"After that stormy event, the wench must be having some nasty dreams now. I have little doubt in my ever-expansive mind of that."  
Herick chuckled in that low, twisted pitch his helmet gave him. "I, on the other hand, have no doubt of that."  
"Nevertheless, I think the Grand Master must know about this... latest development, if you are under the same suspicions as I, which you no doubt are, Lord." The old Epistolary bowed at this honorific.  
Herick nodded. "Yes... I will find him once we have concluded here..." As he spoke, some feeling prodded at his superior mind. The anxieties of a psychic conscience which feared and loathed his mightier presence. It was one of the Astropath-slaves, and he had obtained a message; of this there was no doubt. "It would seem I have something else to deal with..." He said, and stormed out of the Chorus chamber.

When Lockwood sat down at her and the Commissar's table for breakfast, the first thing she noticed was the fact that Raege was not eating; rather, she was simply staring at her food with an blank expression.  
Lockwood said nothing for a few moments. When it became clear the Commissar did not even register that she had sat down, the Major coughed. "You gonna eat that bacon, Sir?"  
Seized from her contemplations, Raege stopped staring at her meal, and turned her attention to Lockwood. "I'm sorry, what?"  
Lockwood blinked. "Commissar, are you alright?"  
"Yes, why?"  
"No you're not."  
"No, I'm fine, Lockwood." Raege insisted.  
"Tell me what's wrong."  
The Commissar sighed, and leaned towards Lockwood. "Call it silly, but I had probably the most unpleasant dream in years last night."  
Lockwood leaned forward, eyes fixed on Raege. At this, the Commissar hesitated, then continued. "It was a battlefield. I'm sure it was. The sky was ablaze, the ground charred, and everyone was dead around me, including you."  
"Either you doubt our ability to fight, or you're worried you won't lead us well… that's touching. The latter, I mean."  
Raege shook her head. "It wasn't that. I'm sure of it. It was completely surreal, even for a dream…"  
"Well, what do you think it was?"  
Making sure no one was listening, Raege leaned even closer, lifting herself from her seat. "I think it was a premonition." She said, and quickly sat back down.  
Lockwood burst out laughing. Raege initially took this as an insult, but then she realized why it was Lockwood was mocking her:  
She was being ridiculous; completely unlike herself. This sort of superstitious, forthcoming talk was not proper for a woman who had built herself upon rational, controlled behavior.  
"You know what, you're right." Raege said, more firmly. "That was pathetic of me."  
Lockwood forced herself to stop laughing. "What? No, Raege, that's not what's funny." She answered, still giggling to herself.  
"What is it then?"  
"Your coat..."  
Raege looked down at her clothing: She had smeared grox bacon grease all over her greatcoat.

_To my esteemed and venerable Astartes colleagues of the Knights Teutonic,_  
_It has come to my attention that my acolyte team recently - and wrongfully - engaged your honored warriors in combat a matter of weeks ago. For this, I humbly send to you my plea that you look upon this mistake with forgiveness. I can assure you that I will preside over a review of my troops to see if they are truly fit for fighting after the atrocities they committed upon your warriors in this most tragic of incidents._  
_I beseech you, have mercy,_  
_Inquisitor Tobias G. Levy, Ordo Xenos_

For several moments, Herick looked at the letter. Panting weakly, the astropath-slave sat on the floor where he had been pushed to after handing over his translation - he was weak enough as it was, and Herick's abuse was only putting him on the verge of death. Not that the Master Lexicanum cared.  
For a moment, Herick was amused that they had managed to frighten an Inquisitor to the point he was willing to grovel for pity, but then he recalled the fine line of rumors on this Levy fellow: A dirty and cowardly man, they called him; willing to say or do anything to live and keep his job.  
This turn of events pleased Herick. His target was now easier to locate; through Levy, he would get Raege's destination... then she could be dealt with there.  
The colossal psyker left. As he stepped through the door, he pointed to one of the Auxiliary guards standing at attention in the hall. "Have someone locate the Grand Master. Tell him I have news for him… and while you're about, have several more astropaths sent to the Chorus Chamber."  
The guard nodded nervously, and put his hand to his helm's vox-bead, while Herick rushed away to prepare the Chorus.

Inquisitor Levy sat at his desk, enjoying a glass of amasec while reading his letters; he had quite a number of young Ladies from a variety of Calixian noble houses corresponding with him. He chuckled at the thought of this, and sipped from his drink. As always, everything was going just his way.

By the time Roedaelar's Conclave was redirecting its force, it was too late. All which Herick seeked would soon be his. It didn't take long for the Chorus to divine Levy's location, especially as he was in transit through the Warp.  
Standing at the altar, guiding the energies his underlings produced, Herick began to laugh in his excitement.

Levy's head throbbed. The sudden jolt of pain caused him to lurch; his glass spilled as his hand began to spasm, and then it fell from his grasp completely, shattering on the floor.

Herick had done it! He had Raege's destination, and what's more, he'd done the impossible: He had outwitted the Eldar! The foul xenos truly could be fooled!  
His laughter quickly turned into the cackle of a daemon.

Levy's limbs began to contort themselves as he wheezed out a cry for help, and then he fell flat against his desk.  
He was found there, unconscious, a few minutes later by one of his maids.

The _Ave Maria_ made it to Ganf Magna with no problems. The Navigator had complained of Warp turbulence in the final month of the transition, and while this wasn't uncommon, he protested to the crew that it had been particularly severe and unusual - he thought it felt more intelligent than typically, more purposeful rather than random.  
Raege, still uneasy, had attempted to avoid thinking much of this. She failed, of course; it was certainly not coincidental that she had dreamed so terribly before-hand. The events of the last few months only were accumulating to drive her to paranoia - especially now that, on Ganf Magna, she did not just think she was being watched; she knew she was.  
She needed to speak with someone about it. A professional, perhaps. Maybe one of the doctors at the Medicae Center would be able to diagnose her with some sort of ailment to assure her? Her position was definitely not one that would enable her to visit a mental analyst. She was a Commissar, and Commissars could not risk betraying weakness.  
Hence, there she sat hopelessly in Lounge 14 of the Magnus Prima, drinking from a paper cup of caff she'd obtained from one of the stores the floor below before coming up to relax by her lonesome.  
The Magnus Prima was Ganf Magna's central seat of nobility. It was the residents of the colossal, artistically-structured spire that had first complained of the problem of Feral Orks on the planet. The increasing issue was beginning to demand a larger support force. As questions were raised over how the invasion of Orks had begun, some suggested it had been an accidental release by the nobles themselves; evidence made it almost too-evident they had been toying with imported specimens as a sort of amusement. For the spores of an Ork to be released into the wild was hardly a step up from that.  
The Guard forces sent to deal with the growing infestation had only recently ousted the nobles from their comfortability so that they might have a central base of operations; a long list of individuals from all offices and organizations in the Calixis Sector, Inquisitor Levy included, had demanded they finally relinquish the structure, which they begrudgingly did.  
The Magnus Prima was a huge structure which bore a likeness to a sort of plant: Its body flared into a large, rounded bulb around the midsection, from which several enormous support branches extended off at curved angles into the surrounding ground. The entire building was composed of two-hundred-seventy-five different floors, including fifteen Lounges - massive leisure areas which filled the vertical space of five normal floors each, and which made up the bulk of that bulb. The upper floors of the spire were residential luxury habs, and at the very highest point were private docks for spacecraft. A much larger bay existed around the skirt of the bulb for larger ships and transports. The entire thing had been commandeered now by the Imperial Guard. The commanders of the operation resided on the upper floors. The spire was protected from the air by patrols of fighter squadrons, directed out of the Flight Control center up in the private docking levels.  
Raege and her unit had originally been called for when the Generals Militant associated with the operation had been expecting the Ork problem to worsen. Now, however, there was little need for them. They had been simply told to make themselves comfortable and wait for any activity for a month before moving on.  
In the mean-time, word arrived to Raege that Levy had apparently experienced a heart attack, judging from the state he was found in one night. He was not permanently harmed, though the incident had weakened him, and was baffling his physicians.  
Contemplating this was ruining Raege's nerves. The galaxy seemed to be against her now.  
She began shivering; severely, she realized. She noticed her caff cup was tipped over in her hands, its contents spilt on the marble floor and what remained in the cup coming out in a slow drip. She simply dropped it, bowed her head and sighed at her condition.  
_You ou really have ave me worried, Boss oss._  
Raege brought her head up, nearly losing her cap. "Hey, Quil. I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me."  
_It looks like you've been this this way for a month or so now ow. Something happened while we were traveling, didn't it it?_  
"Yes, actually... how did you know?" Raege asked, looking back; Lancaster was not there, however. Raege looked up, then, and found her hanging from the limbs of the tree beside her.  
_I I was affected ed as well well. I had a nightmare mare._  
"I did, too…" Raege admitted, slowly turning away again. Lancaster decided to come down, and sat beside Raege.  
_I think ink it had something ing TO DO WITH an event in the Warp arp. Quite a few members of the crew ew were talking about hav having bad dreeeeeaaammmmmmms._  
"Did they tell you this?"  
If Jonquil was not already smiling constantly, she would have grinned. _No no._  
Raege snorted at this. "Well, what did you dream about?" She asked.  
_It is is… difficult ult to ex explain ain. I felt a pres presence._  
"A presence?"  
_Someone one… something ing… things, rather rather. They felt conscious. One wanted to kill me me, the other presence ence wanted to protect ect me._  
"Is that all? You just felt those two?" Raege asked.  
_They were fighting ing. Over me me. Over us, I I think._ Lancaster tilted her head in that fluid motion towards Raege now. _What about you?_  
"Me?"  
_You had a dream dream too, didn't idn't you?_  
"Yes…" Raege said, and leaned back. "I did."  
_Whaaaaaaaaaaaat was was it?_ Lancaster tilted her head.  
"Death. Destruction. Everyone was dead and I was dying." Raege explained.  
Jonquil leaned in. _You remember how I died?_ She asked, conveying a feeling of humor to her voice.  
"It looked like you'd been torched. A psychic source, maybe."  
Lancaster let out a series of wheezes meant to be laughs. She loved such macabre details.  
"Boone was being possessed, I think." Raege added. "That was really upsetting. I have yet to even contemplate what I'd do if that would happen."  
Lancaster was silent._I'm beginning to suspect someone may have been trying to divine our location._ She announced after a few moments.  
Raege looked up at her. "What makes you think that?"  
_No, I'm certain certain. Someone is looking ing for us. Nightmares and night terrors are sometimes times minor phenomena nomena caused by a presence in the Warp arp… such as a psyker psyker making an attempt at dowsing ing._  
"I see…" Raege mumbled, and looked out the observation panes at the far end of the room.  
_The way you've been been acting is unusual usual, though…_ Jonquil said. _And I'm begin beginning to think there's something thing… someone, affecting you._  
"Oh?"  
_It's a very common tactic tactic. Inducing fear fear. Put an en enemy in a state of unrest. Make them uncomf uncomfortable able. Pretty soon they'll fall into into such disease they may as well not even be there._  
"So this could be a psyker making me feel like this…"  
_Perhaps haps._  
"Thanks, Jonquil." Raege said, standing up. She looked down at the puddle of her spilt drink. "Could you, ah… get this mess cleaned up?"  
_No problem em, Boss._ Jonquil nodded. The cup and the caff began to levitate, and then made its way to a garbage receptacle, where it fell in.  
"Thanks again." The Commissar said, and walked away.

"Magnus Control, this is Pilatus Flight."  
The Flight Control voxseer flipped the switch on the comms channel. "Go ahead, Pilatus Flight." He said, bored.  
"We have an unidentified craft which has been tracked entering the airspace. It is not transmitting handshakes but is claiming to be a pilgrim ship." The pilot responded. "They want to land on the upper docks."  
The voxseer pressed a notice button to summon over his supervisor. "One second, Pilatus Flight, I'm going to get confirmation…"  
The Navy supervisor, a grizzled fighter veteran missing half of his face stepped over.  
"We have a bunch of codeless pilgrims asking for permission to land on the high-pads."  
"How did they get past orbit without the handshake codes?" The supervisor asked.  
"I don't know. They probably were given permission up there."  
"Let them in, then." The supervisor grumbled, and stomped away, furious. "We don't have time to waste arguing with ruddy pilgrims who want to waste their own time on this backwater."  
The voxseer leaned forward again, and switched the channel back on. "Pilatus Flight, guide the pilgrims in."  
"Copy that."

It was late. Very late. Night had long-fallen, and much of the non-vital crew of the Magnus Prima had gone to sleep. Pilgrims in the middle of the night was unusual, but still, only the standard six-man security force was sent to welcome them.  
The vessel came in, floodlights on and bright. The five Lightnings surrounding it broke away and returned to work.  
The craft was an Aquila Lander, modified for space travel. That was the first perplexing matter: What ship had it come from? The second, naturally, was how pilgrims had managed to get a hold of a particularly expensive vehicle such as this, and then modify it.  
Never judgmental, the security team guided the craft down. They watched as the passenger bay dropped down out of the fuselage. A group of white-robed men, their entire faces hidden under their cloaks, stepped out.  
The sergeant of the security team stepped forward. "Welcome to the Magnus Prima. If you'd kindly-"  
He did not get to finish. The pilgrim at the front pulled a silenced stubber out from under his robes, and put a bullet between the sergeant's eyes. Before the other guards could react, the rest of the pilgrims had torn them apart with silenced weapons fire.  
The pilgrims lifted away their robes, revealing black, hardened bodygloves.  
The lead "pilgrim" rushed forward, and searched the sergeant's corpse for identification. After a few seconds, he found it; he read the squad designation, then took the man's vox. After clearing his throat, he practiced an imitation of the man's voice, and then flipped the vox on. "Control, this is Sec-team Five, the pilgrims require assistance with their belongings."  
"Copy that, Sec-team. We'll send a servitor up."  
The team leader stood up and looked back at the lander. His men were unloading their belongings already. He rushed over to his kit, and produced a crowbar from his items. "Be ready with the downloader the instant that servitor comes up." He said to one of his men. The other nodded, producing a data-slate from his toolcase.  
A few moments later, a wheeled servitor came up on a support lift. Dumbly, it lifted its head and looked about as the assailant plugged a cable from the dataslate into an interface port on the back of its neck. Meanwhile, the leader jammed the support lift door open with the crowbar he'd taken from his kit.  
The machine fell over, dead, without producing an alarm to the Enginseers overlooking all servitor operation within the spire.  
The leader stepped back over to his kit. The rest of his team had already put on their carapace armor. Two men hurried over and helped him into his.  
Fully equipped, he switched on his face mask's features. Immediately, his visor lit up, feeding him information from its built-in auspex. He tapped against the side of it, and when everyone gave a thumbs up, he began speaking over their vox channel.  
"Raimo's group, you four take the lift down to the genetorium. Eckhard's team is with me, we get set and we move the instant the lights go out."  
He shouldered his weapon, a black-bodied hellgun receiving power from a capacitor on his back. With a final gesture, they moved into action.

"Well Throne on Earth!" Lockwood exclaimed. "Leebhr Jacobi!"  
The aged male Kasrkin smirked. "I'll be damned. Zune friggin' Lockwood. Zune friggin' Lockwood of Kasr Sorn."  
"Shit, man! I thought I saw you lurking around!" She gestured to the table at which she sat. "Come on man, have a drink or two with me. Where in the Eye of Terror have you been since the Cael Sortie?"

Two enginseers stepped up to make adjustments to the servitor when the lift door opened. They instead met their ends at gunpoint. A silenced burst from two weapons split their augmented heads open, and the ambient noise of the spire genetorium served to shroud the already-masked sound of the shots. Another enginseer, casually wielding a colossal axe-like device stepped into the hall. Before he could alert the others, he too was shot dead.  
The squad rushed forward, and split in two with the forked path around a single enormous fusion cell. Both new divided teams rushed through, laying in wait until they had the chance to kill another Tech-Adept.

Jacobi sat down with a grunt. "Well, I wound up being shipped out to work as a stormtrooper. Seems someone back home didn't like my presence. They threw me through all kinds of messes, and decided I was best-used against greenskins."  
Lockwood took a swig of her bottle. "Ooooh damn, that sucks."  
Jacobi chuckled, unsure whether she was talking about his story or the alcohol. "Yeah. My unit got its ass handed to it when we tried to take a big bite from a friggin' Warboss. Some joke of an Inquisitor picked me up a few months ago and shipped me to Kranenstaz, and from there put me aboard your ship, I guess."  
"So you were aboard the _Ave Maria_ with us and I never saw you... a damn shame!" Lockwood said. "Come on, let's get you a drink already and go hit the lounges. Hey, barman!"

Ctibor put his autogun down, and pulled out his data-slate. He pulled out the interface cable, and pressed several keys. "I have access." He announced after a few seconds.  
"Good." Came the voice of Captain Lucjan, his unit commander. "Kill the power on my cue."  
Another Tech-Priest came around the corner. "Hey!" He shouted.  
Another member of the team shot him dead, but it was too late. The Tech-Priests now knew of their presence.  
"We've been detected!" Ctibor shouted. Every other member of the team down in the genetorium was suddenly tense and alert.  
"Do it now!" Lucjan commanded. "Whether they're aware or not won't matter once the plants are out. Cut all main power."  
Ctibor obeyed. He pressed several keys on the data-slate, and several different graphics began popping up on the slate's screen: Power readings on various systems. Almost all of them were dropping, and rapidly. The few lights in the genetorium faded out, and were replaced by dim red auxiliary lamps. "Power is now failing. I'm proceeding to put the locks in place. Remember, support power is still active."  
"Good. Get out of there when you're done and come help us."  
Team Raimo did as told, and moved to regroup.

Angela took a swig of her rotgut; it tasted like piss. She could not understand the allure of such a sickening substance. Placing her mask back over her face, she looked back at her squad:  
Eva, her dear sister, was sitting by her lonesome in the corner of the booth.  
Yaroslava was in the midst of an arm-wrestling match with the squad's latest addition, a Drookian by the name of Milly Carlyle. She was an utter monster; Yaroslava was tough, but Milly may as well have been a heavy-lifting servitor with arms like hers. Angela had heard Raege had found her on the nightmare-world of Dusk, swinging through trees. The Krieger was almost willing to believe that.  
Angela leaned back, and looked about the Lounge. Several other members of the unit were still present, though many had gone up to the beds. She, was interested in doing some gambling, and so began to look about for a suitable opponent.  
Then the lights flickered out. One of the newest recruits, some idiot named Myers began to wail.  
This was certainly a turn for the interesting, Angela decided.

The lights down the hall went out. Lockwood looked to Jacobi as their overhead illumination died out as well. "You got a weapon on you?" She asked.  
"I've got my hellpistol loaded with a charge pack, yeah." Jacobi said. "No way in hell would I let those security asses take all of my guns."  
"Good. Keep it ready." Lockwood said. Jacobi could hear what he was certain was an autopistol being primed. A few seconds later, she nearly blinded him with a flash-torch.  
Girl was always prepared.  
"Let's look into this. The cogboys don't just let the lights go out." She said. "I've got a bad feeling about this…"

_No fighting? I'm sure the Commissar is disappointed._  
_Yeah…_ Boone sent back. _I'm getting worried about her, Michael. She hasn't been herself, it seems._  
_What do you mean?_ Michael asked.  
The storage house became pitch-black, then. Boone let out a yelp.  
_The lights just went out!_ Boone sent, excited.  
_What? What happened?_  
_I don't know!_ Boone responded, now frantic. _I don't like this, I don't like this…_  
_Calm down, calm down, Alice…_

_I I don't know, Boss oss… the place looks kinda kinda pretty without any il illumination, besides the moonlight light._  
Lancaster could, of course, see everything with her augmetics. Even without them, she could simply reach out with her mind to perceive her surroundings. Raege, however, was having trouble seeing anything in the shadow of the half-exposed moon.  
"Nevertheless, this presents us with a problem." Raege replied, pressing, then banging on the lift buttons. "The lift is down, too. That's a bad sign."  
_Wouldn't there be stairs stairs too?_ Lancaster asked.  
"Maybe. Come on, we need to find out what's going on before people start freaking out." Raege said, and hurried away in search of a way out with Jonquil in tow.

The lift doors opened at the exact same time the lights went out. Too close, but they were well within the margin of error.. Lucjan's auspex indicated there was no one roaming outside their rooms on this level, but plenty of people were in their suites, safe and comfy behind locked doors… and his squad had the skeleton key to the whole building.  
He stepped forward, seeing the world, illuminated, all darkness bright as normal day.  
With his weapon armed and charged, he moved in, his rubber-soled boots making little noise as he stalked about for his prey, his squad following close behind him.  
Killing time.


	10. Chapter 8

**VIII**  
**DANCING IN THE DARK**  
_"We deal death in the cover of darkness, of shadow. We revel in its power. We are a species of the night."_  
_Teaching of the Imperius Policae Assassin-Cult_

"So where have you been since you left Cadia?"  
"Quiet." Lockwood hissed, scanning over the path with her flash-torch.  
"Oh come on," Jacobi said "I somehow doubt we're going to run into a vicious monster that tracks its prey by the sound of their voice."  
Lockwood stopped, and directed her flash-torch back at Jacobi's face; he shielded his one eye from it with his hand, while the augmetic left eye was, of course, unaffected. "No, but I don't think we want security to hear us wandering around with guns out." The Major whispered.  
"Fair enough." Jacobi mumbled, and looked on ahead: His right eye was entirely useless in this situation, but the loss of his left eye had blessed him with a bionic replacement capable of viewing in different spectrums. The hall ahead was devoid of activity. It was depressing in its emptiness.  
Then, as they made a turn, Jacobi spotted a man leaning against the wall ahead - from what Jacobi could see, he was wearing an identification armband, and was carrying a holstered pistol and a sheathed shock maul: Security. He quickly grabbed Lockwood's arm, and, struggling slightly with the strong woman, pulled her back.  
"What the hell are you doing, Leebhr?" Zune said softly yet sharply, gutting the poor man with her elbow.  
He gagged, and let go. "Sorry to startle you," he whispered, clutching his stomach "but there's a guy up ahead."  
"How do you know that?"  
He tapped on his bionic eye, which gave off a dim red glow in the darkness.  
"... Oh." Lockwood coughed. "Put your gun away. Let's go talk to him. He's probably seen us already." She slipped her own autopistol into her back pocket, and stepped forward. Jacobi did the same with his hellpistol.  
"Hello?" Lockwood called out.  
There was no response.  
She shone her flash-torch on him. "Hey, you deaf?"  
The man did not move.  
Lockwood walked up behind him. "Hey!" She said, shaking his shoulder.  
He crumpled over: She realized he was dead.  
"What in the name of Terra is this supposed to be?" She looked back in Jacobi's direction, keeping her flash-torch trained on the corpse. "Leebhr, did you see that?"  
He nodded; upon realizing she could not see this, he said "Yes."  
The Major kneeled beside the body, and turned it over. The front of the corpse was covered in fresh blood, which originated from a wound in the abdomen - he had been struck by a knife very recently, it appeared.  
"Shit." Lockwood groaned. "There's a nut with a knife running around."  
"Oh boy." Leebhr piped in, sarcastically. "Just what I need."  
Lockwood shone her flashlight further down the hall, and as she came to a split in the path, she noticed a trail of blood leading from around the bend. Apparently that was the direction from which the body had come.  
"I'm getting the feeling this was a trap..." The Major whispered, pulling out her autopistol.  
Jacobi drew his weapon as well, but did not bother to respond; he was occupied watching for movement. After a few moments, he saw it: A person sticking their head out from behind cover, they were holding something...  
A hellgun.  
"Crap!" He yelled, and practically tackled Lockwood just as the gunman opened fire. The shot would have torn into Lockwood's neck, but succeeded only in grazing her shoulder. The two Kasrkin landed in front of a doorway, which slid open upon detecting their presence.  
"That is not a knife!" Jacobi dared joke, firing back with his hellpistol as he backed into the room. He would not hit anything, but it would at least discourage their assailant from sticking their head out until they were in cover.  
A trio of las rounds pelted the outcropping in the wall beside the doorframe just as Lockwood ducked in. "Where is Security when you really need them?" She grumbled as she rubbed the sore patch of burnt flesh left on her shoulder by the shot. With her pistol at the ready, she slowly leaned out the door, and then quickly ducked back before a burst of las could hit her.  
Meanwhile, Jacobi looked around. They had entered a storage room, apparently. While Zune exchanged shots with their assailants, he took note of several urns of machine oil on one shelf. Another was loaded with crates labeled as "burn-boxes" while another was filled with liter-canisters of promethium.  
"Shit, why would you leave something like this unlocked? This room's a bomb just waiting to go off." He commented, as though he were oblivious to the situation outside.  
Lockwood looked back at him, then shined her flash-torch along the walls of the room.  
She shined it on Jacobi, and then stared at his gun. "Hey, Leebhr, how well-charged is that pack?"

Rsamly caught sight of something from the corner of his eye - a person running down an intersecting hall nearby. He tapped Svyato beside him, and pointed off in the direction. Svyato nodded, and shouldered his gun as the two began to follow the path the runner had taken.  
As they peaked around the corner, however, they saw nothing.  
"Strange." Rsamly commented, his words partially muffled by his mask. "I know I saw something."  
"Forget it. These halls are completely empty. Your goggles are zakking shit, man. We need to replace them."  
"Hey, screw off, I know what I saw!" Rsamly snapped, as they turned and began walking back the way they had come. "Hey, where are we supposed to find that Raege guy's room, anyway?"  
"It's a girl, Rsamly... the Captain went over that several times."  
When she was sure they were gone, Lancaster ceased her focus on her power, and soon after, she became visible again. She let go of the hold she had on the still-lamp she had been hanging from, and dropped down. She had nearly burned herself from hanging onto it; it had not yet fully cooled down since the lights had gone out. She suspected that had been all which kept her from being caught: Those two appeared to have been wearing preysense masks, and she had not hidden her body heat.  
She looked around with her augmetic eyes; sure there was no one around, she continued along.  
_Boss, these goons here are looking for you._

Climbing the stairwell to question the men in charge on the upper floors, Raege stopped, and looked back down the steps behind her, partially out of habit; she almost expected to see Lancaster there. _Who, security?_  
_Does security run around in carapace with hellguns?_  
Raege narrowed her eyes and frowned. _What the fick is going on?_  
Then she began to hear something else. _Wait, Quil, do you hear that from down there?_  
_Hear what?_  
_It sounds like... gunfire._

Hran, growing impatient with the waste of a gunfight, decided they needed to put an end to it. He waved his hand for Szir, standing close behind him, to see, and when he knew he had his attention, he pointed to the other side of the corridor. Szir nodded.  
Hran opened fire to give his partner a chance to move, but wound up taking a bullet to the helmet; he reeled back, and then, unharmed in no small part due to the carapace he wore, began firing again.  
Once Szir was on the other side, he trained his hellgun on the doorway; he had a much better vantage point, and could take anyone leaning out by surprise easily.  
After a few moments, however, there was no activity from his opponents. He looked to Hran, who held up his hand: "Wait a bit more," he gestured.  
Nearly a half-minute past, and Hran, growing worried that security might show up, decided it was time. "Head in," he commanded with a movement of his hand.  
They slowly stepped toward the door, guns trained on it. As Szir drew closer to the entrance, he began seeing something strange: A heat source - faint, yet growing stronger and stronger from behind the door. He looked to Hran, uncertain, and then moved to investigate.  
As he stepped to the entrance, Szir heard a clatter by his feet. He looked down to see an intense source of heat, which promptly exploded, spraying forth a wave of bright colors across his field of vision. He was sent backwards by the blast, burning promethium gel sprayed across his body. He cried for help as his body caught fire; with his friend struggling, Hran immediately and unthinkingly hurried to assist him, only for a shot to hit him in the unexposed back of his leg. He fell face-first, and before he could turn over and recover, a boot stomped down on the arm he held his hellgun with.  
Lockwood smashed Hran's other hand down, pinning him. "Isn't it weird that they keep flammable lubricating oil next to fire starters?" She asked, taking a pin-torch out from its box, lighting it and then pocketing the container.  
Hran grunted in response, struggling to break free.  
Lockwood looked over at Szir. The fire had gotten under his armor plating, and was now feeding on his bodyglove. "And fuel, too." She added. "This place sure is hazardous, though I think your buddy already knows that."  
Meanwhile, Jacobi came out, holding an urn of oil. He put it down gently and stepped over to Lockwood. Hran saw the two Kasrkin as clouds of body heat, lightly sprayed by the mist of Szir's pyre, until Jacobi tore away his mask with a few quick and powerful jerks; the assassin's face beneath was pale and grizzled, covered in geometric tribal tattoos.  
"What do we do with this one?" Jacobi asked, loading a clip into his hellpistol; the last one had been used to make a firebomb.  
"Take his gear." Lockwood commanded. Jacobi nodded, and began to strip away whatever pieces of equipment he could see on Hran. Lockwood watched, half-amazed as her partner removed a variety of munitions and rations, forced the hellgun's back capacitor out of its slot with a few tugs on the power cables, cut away the holster of a heavy autopistol, pulled out a terrifically sharp-looking combat knife, and then finally, a holo-wafer. Jacobi incautiously activated it, and was surprised to find the hologram bore the visage of Raege.  
Confused, he looked to Lockwood; she frowned at this new development. She looked down at her captive.  
"See your friend over there, burning to death?" She asked, pointing to Szir –he had ceased to move and was undoubtedly dead in the flames. "You are going to wind up like him in about five seconds if you don't tell me what I want to know. Who are you working for?"  
Slowly, she inched the pin-torch closer and closer to Hran. His breathing grew heavier and more erratic with his nerves.  
His face twisted into a deranged smile. "I'd rather burn." He growled.  
Lockwood shrugged. "Suit yourself." She said, uncaringly, and dropped the pin-torch on the slick of oil which covered her would-be assassin. It quickly spread, and Lockwood stepped off of him to avoid the flames.  
Unrestrained, Hran flailed about and attempted to put out the fire, but it was all across him. His agonized screams persisted until he finally expired in the heat.

The stairwell was dimly-lit by a series of low-power glow globes positioned along the walls on each landing; each cast a deep red light, signifying there was a power failure.  
As the Commissar advanced upwards, she realized her plated boots were incredibly loud. She sat back down on a step, and took them off to avoid attracting attention. Hoping she would not encounter any broken glass, she continued up with her boots clutched in one hand.  
She began to ponder over the situation. Paranoia left her with no doubt that the individuals Lancaster had mentioned were there to kill her. She had been harboring a bad feeling about this since the lights first went out; yet, instead of keeping Lancaster close, she had sent the psyker to go find and protect Boone while she made her inquiry.  
She bowed her head as she came up another flight, worried about not just Boone, but all her soldiers.  
She failed to hear the clatter of a shell being chambered.  
"Stop right where you are."  
Raege froze; she looked up to see a shotgun barrel staring her in the face.

As Lockwood studied the holo-wafer, Jacobi took the knife from the pile of things he had taken from Hran. "I've never seen this sort of knife before." He commented.  
"It's a Lathe-forging." Lockwood said, staring at the holo-wafer. "They're very fine blades. Sharp as hell and can even sustain damage from a power weapon."  
"Nice." Jacobi grunted. "This is some serious shit right here. Between the hellgun, this knife, and the armor, this is the kind of gear we'd get back in the Kasr defenses. Mercs, these be not."  
"They were hunting for Raege." Lockwood announced. "Dammit, these guys were working for the frigging Knights."  
"The Knights? What, some death cult you guys pissed off?" Jacobi asked, smirking. "They're pretty damn-connected to be pulling off stunts like this."  
"You don't know?" Lockwood shook her head, disgusted with her friend's ignorance. "Trust me, you do not want to know…"  
She shined her flash-torch down the hall, holding her autopistol parallel to it. "Take the guy's guns and let's go. We need to find Raege."  
Jacobi gave the knife one last appreciative glance, and incautiously stuck it on his belt. He pocketed Hran's powerful Hecuter autopistol, as well as several clips of ammunition for it and a few charge packs for the hellgun, shouldered the hellgun itself, and then stepped up to Lockwood. "Ready." He said, and so they set out.

Raege held her hands up, still clutching her footwear. "At ease, soldier. Commissar Raege, I'm reporting up to the tower command to see what's going on."  
"Ah! You're a Commissar! Yes, silly me. Strange though, your uniform is more fitting of a trainer than an actual field Commissar."  
Raege raised an eyebrow. How did this guardsman know that? It was not classified information, but the average soldier either could not discern a difference or mistook it for another position's uniform entirely. His eyesight must have been superb, also, as Raege could not even make out his uniform markings from the short distance between them.  
"My circumstances are rather hard to explain, but let's just say I didn't get a chance to get another outfit." She explained.  
"Oh, I see! Yes, I do apologize, then." He stepped back, lowering his shotgun, and gestured up the next flight of stairs. "Come, I'll show you up to the control tower."  
Taken aback by the guardsman's courtesy, Raege uneasily took a few more steps up, and then slowed, expecting the man to step in front and lead her up. When he did not, she simply continued along.  
"What regiment did you say you belonged to?" The guardsman asked.  
"I'm not really with one." Raege replied, not interested in talking.  
"That's odd. I thought Commissars were assigned to regiments."  
"Let's just say I'm waiting for mine to be formed."  
After a bit of silence, she looked back at him to ensure he was still following; she was uneasy about him; he gave Raege a feeling that she knew meant trouble.  
"You never identified yourself." She said. "What regiment do you belong to?"  
"Ah, yes! Silly me. I apologize." The man adjusted his visor cap. "I'm Yarn Blaske, of the Kinog 47th... formerly, anyway."  
"Formerly?"  
"Yes, yes, well, you see, my regiment has been fading away after a string of misfortunes, and, well, they recently met their final demise here. I'm all that's left."  
"What happened?"  
"We were ambushed by Orks, you see..."  
"How did you manage to survive?" She was growing even more suspicious of this young man.  
"Ah, well, I'm not exactly all that remains. I was off elsewhere with my own squad, and we wound up returning without knowing what happened to the others. We found out later about their annihilation. I've been on security detail ever since, you see."  
"I do see..." This only made Raege trust him less. "So, why did you act so hostile towards me?"  
"Ah, well, you see," she twitched at his reuse of that phrase, "when the lights went out, some of the security teams downstairs failed to report in. Since we're understaffed right now, we were all informed to act as though this was a hostile infiltration. I was positioned on the stairs to watch for contact."  
"So you left your post to walk me up. How very kind of you." Raege's last sentence had an added sting to it.  
Blaske chuckled at this, seemingly oblivious to her sarcasm. "Yes, well, it is my duty, Mamzel."  
"That's "Sir," soldier."  
"Ah, yes! Silly me."  
"You said you were understaffed? What did you mean?" She almost regretted asking, because she knew how he would start the sentence.  
"Well, you see, headquarters has requested all available regiments, as well as spire security team to go out and hunt for Orks, so we're left with about thirty actual armed guards."  
Raege looked back at him. "That's absurd. Thirty guards cannot possibly protect much of anything."  
"Yes, I suppose. It's my feeling, however, that headquarters would arm and mobilize the guardsmen left here in the event that anything happens."  
"There's only about a hundred guardsmen here, still." Raege pointed out; she was, of course, referring to her own unit, who had not received any orders since arriving.  
Blaske shrugged. "But it's better than just thirty."  
After several more flights of stairs, Raege was greeted by another man brandishing a shotgun towards her. "Identify yourself." He commanded.  
"I'm Commissar Raege. I'm here to request information from Command."  
"Wait here." The guard said, and stepped up another flight to the door at the landing, and then went in. A few seconds later, he came back out. "Alright, come with me, Commissar." He said, then pointed to Blaske. "You, stay here."  
Blaske nodded, adding a smile that nearly made Raege sick. Leaving him behind, she followed the other guard in.

After a good while of havoc in the lounge, a pair of security guards came in. From the look of them, Angela assumed they had been climbing several flights of stairs.  
"Alright! Everyone on their feet! We need to make an identification check!"  
Angela nudged Zoya. "Why the fikk would they do something like that? There's only, what, eight of us in this room?"  
"I don't know." Zoya whispered back. "Maybe they think one of us is a spy?"  
"Spy for who? Aren't Orks the only problem on this rock?"  
Zoya shrugged, an action visible to her friend in the moonlight.  
Nevertheless, as the two guards began to repeat their instructions, the Krieger and the Vostroyan rose to their feet.  
"Form a line, please, over by the lift entrance!" One of the guards called out.  
As Angela stepped over, she and all others present witnessed a streak of light that was the signature of a las weapon. An instant later, one of the guards fell over, a gaping hole punched through his head.  
"Hit the deck!" Angela shouted, leaping back into cover among the lounge seats.  
The other guard, more competent than his partner, had responded to the attack by immediately turning and firing back in the direction with his shotgun as he ran to safety behind an aesthetic pillar. While his actions were formidable, another las round managed to burn through a portion of the pillar, blasting out his ankle. His shotgun was flung from his arms as he hit the ground, crying in horrific pain. The weapon fell, hit the floor with a clatter, and slid across until it reached Eva, who had ducked under a table.  
Angela watched as a carapace-clad man stepped in, armed with what was certainly a hellgun. "Anyone and everyone in this room, get your asses off the floor now!" He barked, his voice distorted by the machinery which masked his face. When no one obeyed, he fired his weapon; his aim was such that it tore through one booth seat and killed a guardsman hiding there. "Is there a Commissar Raege in here? Answer me!"  
The second guard was still screaming with the agony his wound inflicted. The assailant shot him again, silencing him.  
"Where is Raege? If I am not told, I will kill you all!"  
After ten seconds, the assailant was given no answer. He raised his hellgun and took aim. "I'm going to count to five. The young lady and her friend behind those seats there will be killed if I do not get an answer before I count to five. One…"  
Angela looked to Yaroslava; he was talking about them.  
"Two…"  
Zoya looked uneasy, but Angela shook her head – they would remain defiant.  
"Three…"  
Slowly, quietly, Eva began to slip towards the shotgun. She noticed Gustav Meyers, a recent recruit, had been watching her. He seemed to see what she was doing.  
"Four…"  
"Alright! Alright!" Meyers shouted, and stood up, his hands held in the air for the gunman to see. "I can tell you where Raege is!"  
"Then tell me." The assailant commanded. "Now."  
"Okay, you see, Raege was here recently..." Gustav explained; it was complete nonsense, but at least it was distracting.  
The gunman lowered his hellgun as he listened to Meyers, and Eva immediately acted on this. She wrapped her finger around the trigger of the weapon, hopped to her feet, and fired.  
There was only a few meters between her and the gunman, and the shot smashed into the side of his head. He grunted, and before he could recover Eva pumped the handgrip and then fired another shell, stepping closer as she fired. A third shot sent the gunman to the ground. Eva then attempted to chamber another round, but when she pulled the trigger, the only reaction was the snap of the firing pin.  
The gunman hopped to his feet; his helmet was pelted with holes, and part of his mask hung uselessly from his face. He fired his hellgun in Eva's direction as though he were blind. The beam tore through Eva's flak greatcoat, striking her in the abdomen. She cried out and crumpled over, clutching her stomach.  
Angela rose to her feet, and screamed at the sight of her sister. She dove for the shotgun the first guard had dropped. The gunman pulled away his ruined helmet, and then dove into cover, overturning a table.  
"My sister!" Angela shrieked to Yaroslava as she fired at the gunman's hiding spot. Yaroslava and Meyers hurried over to Eva's broken body, and dragged the moaning woman into hiding.  
As Angela rushed towards the gunman, he poked his hellgun over the battered table and fired. The round struck Angela in the shoulder, and she fell back, dropping the shotgun.  
The gunman, enraged, bleeding from a flesh wound inflicted by Eva's shotgun, and without his preysense mask, began to fire randomly into the guardsmen's positions. He pulled a frag grenade from his belt, tore the pin away, and threw it into the lounge. It detonated, scattering furniture and killing another guardsman. The gunman opened fire again, striking another recruit in the back.  
As he stepped forward, a kick to the back of his legs brought him to his knees.  
"Wha kind'a man goes singlin' out lasses?"  
As he returned to his feet, Carlyle punched him across the face, sending him back to the floor. He rolled over, and pulled his knife out of its sheath as he leapt back up. With one hand still holding his hellgun, he attempted to stab at Carlyle, but she caught his arm, and with one swift action bent it entirely in the wrong direction. He dropped the knife, which she caught before it could land. He kicked her off, and then shot at her, but she had ducked out of his hellgun's path. With the same motion that took her out of the field of fire, she slid the long blade through the plates of his armor, disemboweling him. "A coward, tha's the kind! Say g'night ye yellow filth!"  
He gagged, and fell over, firing off the remaining energy in his hellgun's capacitor.  
Meanwhile, Angela, delirious in her worry, dropped to her knees beside her sister as Yaroslava began to treat her wounds as best as she could; the trauma had rendered Eva unconscious. "Eva, Eva!"  
Yaroslava, applying an antiseptic to Eva's abdomen, looked back at Meyers. "Do you know of any medicae facilities in this spire?" She asked, frantic. "I think her liver has been hit! She needs professional treatment!"  
"I'll go find one, don't you worry yourself Mamzel!" Gustav said, and hurried away.  
"Carlyle! Escort him!" Angela screamed, and the Drookian complied. She faced Eva again, not caring for her own wounds.  
"Eva," Angela whimpered, shaking her sister as Zoya did what she could to combat the injuries, "Eva, please! Please don't leave me!"


	11. Chapter 9

**IX**  
**DANCING IN THE DARK, II**  
_"Anyone who goes around in heavy armor is just asking for attention."_  
_- Chief Scout Solleya Tir, Koracrian 22nd Regiment_

Lucjan slipped the accessor over the panel, and the door slid open with a light hiss. With his hellgun raised, he stepped in, sweeping over the entire room with his preysense vision. Raege's room was entirely devoid of activity.  
He lowered his hellgun, and, after glancing over the room one last time, kneeled on the floor. "All groups, report in." He said, watching the doorway intently.

Ctibor turned and cracked off another round at a Skitarii as it took aim at them. The augmented soldier simply fell over, and was quickly replaced by another of its kind.  
Meanwhile, Raimo was busily working on unlocking the door panel to the auxiliary stairwell, when Lucjan called.  
"Team Raimo here, we're at full strength but we've got Skitarii deploying against us from the inner genetorium!"

"Svyato and Rsamly here," Rsamly said, looking down the hall; no activity. "We're both okay, but we haven't got anything going on. Just a bunch of rooms full of sleeping technicians. We're heading up to the higher lounges now."

Lucjan waited a minute for a message from Hran, and got nothing. "Hran, how are you and Szir?"  
There was no response.  
"Hran? Szir? You hear me?"  
He began to grow agitated.  
"What about you, Torsten? What have you found in the lounges?"  
There was no response from him, either.  
"Team, Torsten, Hran and Szir have been rendered unresponsive."  
"So we assume they've been incapacitated." Svyato said.  
"Exactly." Lucjan replied. "Team, I'm going to contact our little friend, give me a second."  
He put his hand to the dial on the side of his helmet, and flipped it over to the second vox channel. "Platos, this is Lu."  
"Shit, what do you need?"  
"Bad time?"  
"Yes."  
"Alright." Lucjan said. "I need to know if there's any hazardous stock right now in the storeholds. I've got a team going down there to investigate right now."  
"Let's see... we've got a few crates of high-yield explosives down in the first hold."  
"Anything worse?"  
"The new drive core for the main power plant came in earlier. It's being held in the hazard-stock. I don't suggest messing with that."  
"What kind of drive is that?"  
"You didn't know? It's nuclear."  
"Alright, we'll steer clear of it. See you." With the conversation over, Lucjan switched his channel back. "Raimo, head up to the store-holds, and into the hazardous materials stock. I want you to rig the nuclear drive core in there to explode in four hours."  
"A drive core? As in for a genetorium plant? Captain, I don't think the Tech-Priesthood keeps those things running when they're out of use."  
"You know how they work, so get them working. Use your det-charges if you need to. I want this place to be vapor. Nobody finds out we were here, but everybody finds out there was an accident."  
"Yes, Sir."  
With that, Captain Lucjan sat and waited.

The guard by the door saluted as Raege, who had taken a moment in the hall to put her boots on, marched in.  
The Navy Supervisor was waiting for her. "Commissar Raege." He deadpanned.  
Raege nodded. "I need to know what's going on, and now. Pardon the lack of a salute, but I'm in a hurry."  
"Very well." The supervisor said, and turned to the operations pit; all the different monitor stations were dead, and the entire chamber was lit by the same red gloom which filled the stairwells. Several operators scurried about aimlessly, lacking any real direction. "Power died a short while ago, and that is all that we have evidence of. We have yet to identify a cause, but we suspect it to be an attack. We recently received an automatic alert from the Enginseers that they had activated the servo-Skitarii down in the genetorium to deal with a problem, and that was the last we heard from them. Since the Skitarii aren't normally mobilized unless there is a danger, it's clear we have an invasion."  
"All guards are out hunting for Orks, yes? Why not call them back?"  
"We cannot." The supervisor responded. "Our vox amplifiers are presently dead. They are running completely unaware of our plight until their next scheduled check-in time."  
"When is that?" Raege asked.  
"Another half-hour. It will take them at least four hours to return to the Magnus Prima."  
Typical bureaucratic nonsense, Raege decided. "I need one of your guards to escort me down to my room."  
"I cannot spare any more men." The supervisor said, turning to face Raege again. "You are able to make it on your own, are you not?"  
"I am, but that's not the point."  
"There is no point."  
"My regimental psyker has informed me that the invaders are here to kill me."  
"Your psyker?" The supervisor, in an uncanny display of emotion, raised an eyebrow.  
"She's quite trustworthy. And say she is right. I can assure you that my master won't be pleased should I be killed here..."  
The supervisor twitched; he understood who this "master" was and what angering him meant. "Very well." He looked to the guard who escorted Raege in. "Boris, escort her to her suite."  
Boris clicked his boots' heels together and saluted, then followed Raege out. When they exited into the stairwell, Boris gave Blaske instructions to watch over the door.  
Once they had left, the supervisor turned and looked over to the security-communications officer. "Platos, have we received word from Aris and Lon?"  
Platos pulled his headset from his ears. "Ah, yes. They just finished a search of the lounge, and are going down to the storehouse to search for any thefts."  
"Alright." The supervisor nodded, and returned to his pointless vigil.

Boone sat, clinging to her nerves only by the aid of Michael. For what had to have been a half-hour, they had continued to communicate casually in spite of the lack of lighting.  
When, however, a new clatter arose the lesser psyker was even further disturbed. She recognized its pattern and intensity as that of several people climbing stairs.  
_Michael, I think there's someone coming in here..._  
_Don't worry, Alice, I'm sure they're just here to check up on you._  
Nevertheless, Alice was uneasy. She became restless in her seat.  
_Michael, what if-_  
She yelped; she had felt a hand upon her shoulder.  
_What if?_ Michael echoed, expecting Boone to continue.  
_H hey hey there, tiny._  
Boone turned her head to be met by the red glow of Lancaster's eyes.  
"Oh... hello, Jonquil." Boone said, smiling sincerely. "Are you here to check on me?"  
_Actually, I I need to get you ou out of here here._ Lancaster replied.  
"Is something the matter?"  
Boone jumped at the sound of a door being slammed open.  
_Y yes, there is is. I would ould appreciate it if you spoke to me only through telepathy epathy right now ow, though ough._ Lancaster answered, adding a sensation of urgency to her thoughts.  
_Is there some danger?_ Boone asked.  
_Quiet iet, I'm finding ing out now now..._  
Lancaster reached out with her mind. She saw all things in manners beyond those of shape; she saw the patterns of four souls, furious clouds whose violent inclinations marked them as a deep red.  
_Four violence-hungry ungry men draw aw near._ Lancaster sent to her lesser counterpart._I know who they're with ith. They're here to kill ILL you and and me._  
In the darkness, Boone's eyes grew wide with terror. In despair, she turned to the container which hid Michael.  
_Michael, what do we do? There's a group of people here intent on murdering us!_ She asked, lying her head against the side of the box.  
There was no response for several seconds.  
_Boone._  
_Michael?_  
_I won't let any harm come to you, I promise that. Listen very carefully to me, Boone._ The assassin commanded. _Get up. Approach the far end of my container._  
Boone complied. She slipped along to the far side - the access code panel was lit up.  
_Now, Boone, I want you to enter the series of numbers I'm about to give you, into that panel..._

As the last member of the squad came through the door, Raimo slammed it shut. He quickly glanced over the room; the towers of crates in the storehouse were defying his preysense mask. "Rur, seal it." He commanded, pointing at the door, and the trooper obeyed, producing from his kit a lastorch. As Rur fired the tool at the door, he motioned for his partner Kordim to feed solder into the path of the beam. Raimo and Ctibor stood by with their guns trained on the door, fully prepared to shoot at whatever might attempt to pass through. It was too late when they detected the presence approaching them.  
Michael's claw tore through Raimo's carapace instantly; the injectors along the back of his gauntlet pumped forth poisons into the squad leader, rendering him, in the span of a heartbeat, able only to produce a gurgling noise. Ctibor, panicking, began to fire madly at the assassin, succeeding only in hitting his leader's body. Sliding Raimo off of his claw, Michael held the body overhead and then threw it at the Kordim and Rur, toppling them over under the agonized cadaver.  
Ctibor attempted to fire again at the daemon which had killed his ally, but he had expended all of his ammunition between the Skitarii and his attack against Raimo. Backing up slowly, he dropped his hellgun and let it dangle by his side while he pulled out his sidearm - in the meager span of time it took him to do so, Michael, releasing a banshee's scream, materialized a fat-bladed power knife from its sheath on his back, and he leapt onto his victim. He drove the powered blade between Ctibor's ribs, then tore downwards, sundering the entire front of Ctibor's torso.  
Michael turned his head to Kordim and Rur, who were recovering from the first assault. He threw his power blade at Rur, managing to cut through his chin into his neck, killing him as well. Kordim attempted to run, palming over his armor for one of his grenades, but Michael leapt at him as though he were a predatory creature, pinning him to the ground. With Kordim helpless, the assassin began quartering his victim's body...

"Would you know anything about that Kinog trooper?" Raege asked as she and Boris descended the stairwell.  
"Yarn Blaske? He's a filthy little shit, I can tell you that much." Boris answered. "He seems to be under the impression he can get away with the vile crap he's pulled."  
"What do you mean?"  
"I'm going to guess he told you the story of how he and his squad weren't present when his regiment died off. He told that to me, too." Boris explained. "Turns out he's the only survivor. He apparently was supposed to be on the lookout for Orks but made a break for it when he first caught sight of them. His unit bit the dust because he apparently failed to report it in."  
"So he lied to me..."  
"I'm afraid so. He just up and sacrificed hundreds of people to save his own hide. There is not an ounce of regret in that man, I think."  
"Why is he still alive?" Raege asked. "Are there no other commissars in attendance here?"  
"I'm afraid you're the only one here right now. Besides, we don't really have definite proof he abandoned, since we don't know what his final orders were... but we sure as hell know he did it."  
"I see..." Raege began to tighten her fists. She stopped at the next landing: Floor 201. "This is it."  
"Alright. Didn't you say they were coming after you? Why are you coming back down here if that's the case?"  
"My weapons." Raege answered, simply. "I'm a commissar. They cannot strip me of my wargear, but I've got it all in my room."  
"I see. Plan on doing some fighting, huh?"  
"Yes, I do."  
"I see." The guard smiled, and hefted his shotgun. "Then allow me to be of help to you." With that, Boris opened the door for the Commissar, allowed her to pass through before he did, and led the way for her.

At a gentle pace, weapons raised, Lockwood and Jacobi snuck down the halls, searching for a stairwell. The Commissar's room was the best place to find her, and so it was their destination... their opponents surely knew this as well, which made it all the more pressing to get there first.  
Lockwood was completely in-tune with every stimulus which presented itself to her senses; a life devoted to protecting the labyrinthine halls, buildings and streets of Sorn, a Kasr infamous for frequent incursions by Chaos Marines and lesser heretics had burned an awareness of her surroundings into her mind – she needed it in Sorn, lest she be caught off-guard by an intruder on her often-lonely patrols.  
As they neared a fork in the hallway, she heard footsteps. The source was close. She looked back to Jacobi, and nodded her head in the direction of the sound. The two silently hugged against the wall as they neared its edge. Lockwood jumped out of hiding as soon as she was ready, her pistol held steady.  
She was greeted by a startled yelp when she came around, and the thud of a body hitting the floor. She realized the sound was more akin to a frightened scream, and immediately recognized the source.  
"Grin? What are you doing?" Lockwood asked, shining her flash-torch on the upset guardsman.  
Kas Grin stared up at her with a look which suggested he had urinated himself in shock. "Major! Oh, oh, Major Lockwood, I'm glad to see you!" He said, breathless… or rather, attempting to sound breathless.  
"What's with you, kid? You were in critical condition just a few months ago, and now you want to get shot again?" Lockwood joked.  
"I'm sorry, Major Lockwood!" Kas said in an attempt to maintain his drama. "I let the enemy get away!"  
"Enemy?" Jacobi asked from behind the two.  
"It was a pair of guys. They were definitely not part of any group here, they were wearing really expensive-looking white armor."  
"Well well, so there are more." Jacobi said, appreciating the weight of the stolen hellgun.  
"Kas, calm down, you did good to hide." Lockwood said, kneeling beside the grunt and patting his shoulder. "Now please, keep out of our way. Go see if you can wake up some other members of the team."  
"Actually, that reminds me." Jacobi announced, shifting his weight to one leg, looking around. "We've made a hell of a lot of noise. You'd think some of the people in their rooms on this floor would come out to see what's up."  
Lockwood stood up. She peered down the hall; there was no sign of activity; no sound, no opening doors. "You're right. What's going on?"  
"I know!" Kas piped up. The two looked down at him.  
The uneasy trooper brought himself to his feet. "The two guys I was eating with from the Malfi regiments got called out for some big Ork hunt. Hell, it looked like everyone outside our unit left for it."  
"That's gotta be the dumbest idea I've ever heard!" Lockwood protested. "I know the Guard command isn't particularly the brainiest at times, but they can't possibly have been stupid enough to send out every available unit for one job!"  
"Maybe they left us to handle security." Jacobi suggested, giving a hand-gesture in the dark.  
"They didn't give us our weapons back, though." Lockwood countered.  
"Good point."  
"Come on, something reeks here. Let's go find Raege." Lockwood began to march off down the hall; she was irritated, Jacobi noted. "Kas, you're coming with us."  
"Y-yes'm!" The guardsman chirped, and hurried along behind her.  
"What are we going to do when we find her?" Jacobi asked, following.  
"I don't know, we're probably going to watch after her for a bit." Lockwood replied, not looking back.  
"What about the others? Aren't they in danger?"  
"Probably, but let's hope they can handle themselves." Lockwood said. "Judging from the size of their groups, there aren't that many of these guys. Probably a smaller force, an infiltration team. They might have been waiting here for days before we arrived."  
"Something doesn't add up though..." Jacobi muttered to himself, and continued along.

"I have a question." Raege announced.  
"You're clear to ask, Commissar!" Boris replied, so loudly that the Commissar winced at his lack of caution - she immediately regretted asking him anything.  
"It sounded like the Adeptus Mechanicus isn't too informative of their work here."  
"You noticed that?" Boris cracked a smile. "Yeah, they really aren't too sociable with the Guard. I hear they didn't enjoy speaking with the original owners of the spire, either."  
"It doesn't sound like a pleasant relationship."  
"You got that right." Boris chuckled. "There'll be occasions where the Mechanicus will up and make demands for something, or send up Skitarii to guard a room, and they never give a reason why. The only news we get from them is a rather courteous announcement of shipment details. The one tech-priest I've seen was threatening to stop sending even that because the generals were prying for info about the security level down in the genetorium… and the… rest of the building the Tech-Priesthood has blocked off."  
"That can't be healthy."  
"Yeah, you know how those cogboys are." Boris gestured for Raege to stop as they approached a turn; he looked around the corner, and then continued along cheerily. Raege rolled her eyes at the uselessness of his cautious movement in light of his incautious speaking. "They bring in some crazy shit, though. The other day, they shipped in a nuke."  
"What?"  
"Not a weapon, really, but some sort of crazy mini… bomb-thing… that they use for power."  
"You mean like a generator core."  
Boris snapped his fingers in a sudden fit of remembrance. "Yeah, that's the word!"  
He stopped abruptly to check over a turn in their path, but Raege lightly slapped the back of his tunic. "Don't bother. You've made enough noise to register us on a handheld auspex from a mile away. If there's anyone hiding on this floor, they know we're here."  
"Sorry, Mam, I didn't mean to-"  
"Don't bother being sorry." Raege said, sharply. Deciding her tone was too harsh, she continued: "It can't be helped. Let's just get to my things."  
"Ay, Commissar."

Lucjan, in his impatience, stood from his hiding place and began to look over the Commisssar's effects: Old group-holos of colleagues, and portraits of individuals of unidentifiable importance; petty commendation medals, seemingly inadequate for a Commissar of the prowess Raege exhibited; worn letters dated decades-old.  
Lucjan had a perverse appreciation for the inner workings of others - their motivations and anxieties, hopes and fears, friends and enemies… it seemed to him something alien: The environment he had grown up in was one of equilibrium, and while his co-workers frequently succumbed to the exposure to life outside the Teutonic Realm, he had always better-appreciated the peaceful existence underlined by violence which had been drilled into him. Nevertheless, he ate up the details which his briefing dossiers lacked on individuals, those profoundly personal materials which made them unique.  
He reveled in his victims' lives.  
The auspex built into Lucjan's mask alerted him to movements outside; two individuals approaching. His sudden recollection of the device's presence in his eyepiece brought up a faint feeling of guilt for being the only one privileged with a motion-tracker, but it was not something he could dwell on. He took up a position in hiding behind some pieces of furniture, positioned well-enough that he could not be seen immediately upon entering; should two individuals come into his field of view the second person would have no way of escaping after his first companion died, as he'd be too far from the door.  
The door did slide open a few seconds later. The subjects were quite talkative.  
"Here we are!" Said one. Lucjan could tell from the thermal image his mask gave him that this man was stocky, and was clearly armed with a shotgun. The weapon made him a priority target, he noted. "You need some light, Mamzel?" The first individual continued.  
The second target individual stepped into sight from behind the cover of the first. Lucjan grew tense at the sight of this on. Female, with a silhouette matching that of…  
"Yes, please." She said.  
Commissar Raege!  
Boris handed Raege his flash-torch. The two stepped further into the room, and Boris unknowingly drew close to Lucjan's hiding spot.  
Lucjan leapt to his feet; the jangling of his armor and equipment brought him the attention of both Boris and Raege. Boris immediately decided to shoot, but before he could bring his shotgun to bear a lasround slapped him across the face, and he fell to the floor with much of his lower jaw burnt away and blood oozing from the half-cauterized wound.  
Raege dropped the flash-torch and uselessly dived to the ground, and slid into hiding to the side of her bed. In this time, Lucjan could have easily shot her, but strangely, he did not.  
"Come out, Commissar." He ordered in a thickly-accented voice, his voice bearing the light scratching quality of his mask. "I do not intend to kill you."  
Raege remained silent. She realized she had gone to cover by her suitcase, within which was hidden her autopistol.  
Lucjan unlatched his mask as a gesture of goodwill, as though that were possible after killing a man. "I have orders to keep you alive. My superiors wish to speak with you." He said, his voice completely clear.  
"And who would your superiors be?" Raege barked, daring to respond. "The Knights?"  
Lucjan paused for a moment and considered this; the room may have been bugged. If he acknowledged that, then the Knight-Order would be stigmatized. "I cannot answer that." He said. "I can, however, guarantee that no harm will come to you."  
The dim light of the discarded flash-torch provided ample illumination for Lucjan to see Raege stand up out of hiding.  
"Okay…" She said, calmly, and took a few steps forward, her autopistol clutched so Lucjan could not see it.  
He allowed her to step closer, then she stopped, as though awaiting his orders. Carelessly, Lucjan began to strap his face mask back on.  
The first thing he saw with his preysenses back on was Raege lifting the gun to his face. He instinctively brought his arm up to shield his face as she fired, and the plated guard around his forearm was pelted with bullets.  
Raege immediately darted out, and Lucjan, biting through the pain of the several bullet wounds his carapace had failed to stop, gave chase, struggling to finish putting on his mask as he ran.

Gunfire sounded from upstairs; Svyato quickly turned his head. "Hey, did you hear that?"  
"Yes, I did." Rsamly said hastily, and motioned for Svyato to follow as he began to run. They needed to get upstairs.  
As they hurried down one pathway, however, they noticed activity; doors opening on both sides of the hall, individuals either stumbling out blindly or shining flash-torches down the length of the hall. Moments later, someone, surprised, shouted to the two assassins.  
"Shit! Shit!" Rsamly cried out through his teeth, and fired at the man, killing him and temporarily scaring the others; taking advantage of this distraction, Rsamly turned down another path, urging his partner along with. However, as he started down this way, a trio appeared down that hall; they seemed to be armed, which was confirmed when a bullet whizzed past Rsamly's head.  
"Other way!" Rsamly shouted to Svyato as he fired back with his hellgun. "We have no time to waste with them!"  
Several guardsmen however, impeded their original path, and a few among them had improvised for weapons with blunt objects and concealed knives. Growling in anger, Rsamly fired into their number, killing several and scattering the others, then he and Svyato hurried by, bashing aside anyone who got in their way, firing back as they rushed along.  
Lockwood and Jacobi, with Kas Grin desperately trying to keep close to the two, followed after, hurrying through the gathering mob, shouting to the confused soldiers.

As Raege came to a turn, she spun around and fired again into the darkness, forcing Lucjan to duck into cover in a doorway. When he popped back out, Lucjan immediately opened fire on Raege again, narrowly missing her leg as she ran around a corner; cursing, Lucjan pursued her.  
Briefly remembering his team, he placed his hand to his comm-bead's control on the side of his mask. "Pursuing Raege." He quickly said, then returned his full focus to the chase.  
Raege fired back again, keeping Lucjan from properly aiming at her. The TASO captain persisted, however. He stuck his hellgun out of cover, pointed, and fired. One beam came so close that Raege ducked by reaction. A final burst from her pistol, however, hit Lucjan's weapon, shaking his grip on it to the point hit slipped from his hands. He recovered it immediately and hopped from cover to shoot at her, only to despair when he realized the Commissar's shot had torn apart the focusing array. Angry, he tore the capacitor from his backpack and threw aside the now-useless weapon, and gave chase to Raege once more as he unlatched the holster of the Prince of Pistols, his Hecuter 9/5.  
His aim bouncing with his step, he began to fire the monstrous autopistol. Raege, upon hearing the first few loud, powerful booms the weapon, immediately turned down the next corridor, hoping to distance herself from Lucjan. However, the passageway led straight to a dead end – lit by red emergency glow-panels was a large, powered bulkhead. The only problem was that it was not receiving power.  
Raege took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself down. She slipped out of her great coat, and whirled around, raising her fists into a fighting stance. During her years at the Schola Progenium, she was taught how to fight without a gun; she whispered thanks to the Emperor, that she still practiced unarmed combat.  
Lucjan came barreling along then. As he slid along the floor to turn, Raege brought her leg up in an arcing kick which connected with the side of his head, sending him reeling to the side; she had intended to hit his hand, but this was just as well. Still focused on disarming him, she grabbed Lucjan's arm as he attempted to swing it around to shoot; when he fired the shots uselessly zoomed past Raege's side, and she, desperate for an opening, noticed that he had a knife stored on his belt. With a swift motion, she tore it from its sheath, and brought it down on his wrist. It had a much greater effect than she had expected – the blade made a clean cut into his hand, digging deeper than any cut like that should have. Lucjan yelped, dropping his gun. Raege quickly kicked it to the side.  
Growling with his anguish, Lucjan stumbled backwards into the main hallway, clutching the gruesome wound, cursing in a tongue which held no ring of Gothic. Completely furious, ignoring the urge to continue gripping onto the injury, he uncovered his right hand. With his still-useful left, he reached around and drew his saber from its scabbard on his back.

Svyato and Rsamly quickly realized they could not outrun their pursuers. Nevertheless, Rsamly decided they needed to keep moving.  
Their flight took a turn for the worse, however, when they came to a fork in the path. There was no sign of where Lucjan had gone.  
"Split up!" Rsamly ordered, looking to Svyato and pointing off in one direction. As Svyato began to move, however, a hail of bullets and lasfire pounded against him; the sheer volume tore into his armor, and by the time he hit the floor he was dead. Rsamly immediately began to sprint down his path, not even attempting to help his partner.

Lucjan swung at Raege; she slid aside, however, and stabbed at him. Lucjan, however, swiftly parried upward, and as the knife flew from Raege's hand he kneed her in the gut, then smashed his armored shin against her face when she reeled forward, in a display of amazing flexibility in the bulk of his armor.  
Raege fell to the side, and Lucjan immediately came at her again, piercing her arm with his saber while she attempted to stand up again, crushing the bone with a sickening snap. She was the one to cry out this time, as Lucjan pulled the blade from the wound, bringing with it a rush of fresh blood. She clutched the injury, and Lucjan brought the blade before her face - a final gesture, declaring himself victor. Raege, bruised, her nose and lip bleeding along with her arm, could only sit and await his next move.  
The lights came on at that moment, all down the hall, and Raege was disoriented as her eyes adjusted; Lucjan was, of course, unaffected. What truly served to capture their attention, was a racket at the end of the hallway, which distracted both Lucjan and the defeated Raege. Lucjan spotted Lockwood and Jacobi coming down the hall, shouting at him.  
Raege immediately took this opportunity, and kicked Lucjan's feet from under him in the second he was not looking. The TASO Captain slipped and fell, while Raege rolled over to the side.  
Lucjan was peppered with gunfire as he returned to his feet, but was not immediately dead. Persistent, he attempted to crawl into cover, trailing blood over the small distance he managed to go before a final gunshot from Lockwood killed him.  
Shaken, Raege got to her feet. The Major jogged up beside her. "Shit, Raege!" She exclaimed. "I mean, Sir! Oh, forget it, you look like fucking shit!"  
"Yeah," Raege grunted, wiping at the blood running down from her nose "yeah, I feel like shit."  
Lockwood laughed. "Come on, let's get you patched up."  
"Forget me right now, Major." Raege said, stepping forward. "We need to get the men together..." She took notice of Jacobi and Grin, then. "You three all came for me, huh?"  
"Yes Sir." Jacobi said, tersely.  
"Don't you worry, Commissar!" Kas Grin exclaimed. "We took care of the other guys trying to kill you!"  
"Did you?" Raege said, feigning surprise. "I'm grateful to you, then. You both saved my life."  
Not entirely a lie, but not entirely accurate either. It helped to compliment the more humble of the troops, such as Kas.  
Raege quickly stepped past them. "Come on, Major, we need to get a headcount..."

Within the next twenty four hours, multiple quick decisions were made: First and chief among them, Raege decided to order Captain Millia to prepare the _Ave Maria_ for travel; she needed off the planet at once before any further harm could be done to her, and she knew this. Second, Raege oversaw interrogation of the surviving assassin, who in his attempt to evade capture killed the ten guards sent after him before being overwhelmed by reinforcements; the Commissar could only commend the interrogators, as the details hastily gleaned from the assassin pointed them to several spies who assisted in planning the operation; among them was a comms operator in the spire control. Raege used her leverage, rather than have them interrogated, to have them executed - she was the executioner. Meanwhile, the surviving assassin was accidentally killed when a second shift of interrogators took the work too far.  
Meanwhile, taking the opportunity pragmatically, Raege opened up recruitment to anyone willing in the Guard forces stationed at the Magnus Prima - a risky investment, following an assassination attempt by a deeply-infiltrated team. It was the only thing she was still on the planet for; as soon as she was finished with this, she would be leaving for the _Ave Maria_ by shuttle, and then she would plan a destination for them... they could not wait for Levy's order, as anything he sent could be intercepted, and so they would be undergoing travel for a planet of Raege's choosing.

The entire trip had been disastrous, Raege ultimately concluded. Five men from the unit in total had been killed, and Eva Neuehoffe was in critical condition.  
Raege herself had not escaped unscathed. Her bandaged arm was in a sling, and her battered face was bandaged as well. Levy had apparently issued orders that she be given top care if injured, which she was; it would be a few days for her face to completely heal, and her arm would not take much longer than a few weeks.  
As she looked out upon the horizon from the Magnus Prima shuttle platform, she contemplated her situation further. There was no doubt, that entire attack had been staged by the Knights Teutonic. In her summary report to Levy, she did not even bother with accepting it may have been otherwise - a judgment he no doubt would agree with.  
Boone stepped up then, smiling as best she could after having been awake for nearly a full day. "Final report on troop acquisition for you, Mam."  
Raege turned and took the report, reading the single-page list dispassionately. Only fourteen volunteers.  
Her eyes widened at the sight of the fourteenth name:  
Yarn Blaske.  
Her hand trembling, she unconsciously crumpled the corner of the paper, and handed it to Boone. "Where are they waiting?" She asked, attempting to remain calm.  
Boone gulped. "They, um... they're waiting your order down on the upper platform of the loading bay."  
"Go ahead and get on the shuttle when it gets here. I'll be on soon after." Raege ordered.  
"Yes'm!" Boone said, meekly.

When the lift stopped, and the doors opened, Raege found Blaske sitting, nearly directly ahead, with the rest of his new 'comrades'. They took one look at the Commissar, and then stood at attention. Raege said nothing, and instead simply approached them. As soon as she was close enough, she lunged at Blaske, pushing him off his feet and exciting the other recruits.  
"You little shit!" She shouted, pinning him to the deck. "You filthy, miserable little shit! You think you can just betray your allies, and then run off before punishment can be delivered?"  
"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about, Commissar!" Blaske cried out. "Please, if I have offended you in some way, let me know-"  
"You've certainly managed to offend me, that's for sure!" Raege said, punching him across the face. "You know what happens when you piss off a commissar, right?" She pulled out her autopistol. "I somehow doubt that! But let me show you..." She pushed the barrel of the gun against Blaske's eye. "See this gun? There's a reason they call this model the Wrist-Rattler! All that force is going straight into your fikking eye, you bastard!"  
"Just a minute! Just a minute, I say!" Blaske said, desperately. "You have no proof that I did anything wrong! And if I did, why would I join your unit?"  
"To get away from the authorities here!" Raege snapped.  
"But that doesn't make sense! You're righteous, honorable, and you have the authority to kill me on a whim! The commissars here need to file several mounds of paperwork to get me even tried, and they wouldn't find anything, but you don't need that. Working with you would kill me, if I wasn't pious!" Blaske explained. "Please, Raege! You see, I volunteered to do something good, give me this chance!"  
"You didn't give your regiment a chance." After a few moments of dead silence, Raege took her gun away from his face. "Very well. Consider yourself lucky. One screw-up, though, Yarn Blaske, and I'll make sure your death is painful."  
She got up from atop him, and stepped away, leaving the others to help the lightly-injured Blaske up.  
He watched her leave on the elevator. When the doors closed, and nobody was looking, Yarn Blaske's face twisted into a wicked grin.  
Just as always, he'd managed to get away.

As soon as all was prepared, Raege boarded the _Ave Maria_ and immediately went to the bridge. Captain Anitia Millia was awaiting her, sober as ever. "Commissar, Sir." She acknowledged Raege with a bow of her head.  
"Set us underway, Captain." Raege said, standing noble as ever in spite of her injured arm.  
"Where-for?" Millia asked.  
Raege waved her hand about uncaringly. "I don't care, just a planet away from here."  
"Aye." Millia stepped forward. "Navigator! Plot a course for the planet Kulth!"  
Raege stood and looked upon Ganf Magna through the viewport until the ship had completely turned away from it.  
"Good riddance." She grumbled to herself, and strode off the bridge.


	12. Chapter 10

**X**  
**VOIDSTALKER**  
_"I can name but one instance in which it is actually wise to board a space hulk. Never."_  
_– Captain Antillius of the Imperial Navy Battleship __**Augustus March**_

"The mission after-report just came in."  
Dryd did not avert his gaze from the viewport; he found the void soothing, especially when his temper flared.  
The woman, Dryd's secretary, placed the file on his desk and scurried out; when Dryd was in a foul mood, it was best not to disturb his contemplations. He knew what mission the after-report was for. Ever since its inception, it had been _the_ mission.  
Dryd, of course, also knew what information the report contained. He had requested it only as a formality, as the remnants of Lucjan's TASO cell on Ganf Magna had already confirmed his elimination. The three members who had evaded Raege's summary investigation were off-world, and were being shipped to different units for incorporation trials.  
Meanwhile, Dryd had also received a report from Scintilla; Inquisitor Levy was consulting with members of the Calixian Ordos for options to prosecute the Knights. Dryd and Klavier had agreed to claim that the Inquisitor's apology had arrived too late for them to call off the assassination attempt, but Levy probably knew the truth.  
Worse still, Raege had all but disappeared. Levy had been noted to have sent a message out by Astropath across the Immaterium, a message which ordered the receiver not to "leave without further signal," but the message had been sent to multiple destinations; one target had been identified clearly as the _Ave Maria,_ but several dozen different ships throughout the Periphery also had received the same transmission, and several were reported to have stopped traveling in accordance with the message; this seemed to indicate that Raege was on another vessel. He could always have several teams sent in to raid each ship, but in doing so he would overstretch the TASO forces, and worse, he would reveal the extent of his intelligence network to the Inquisition.  
Never before had Dryd's administration failed in the way it had with the handling of the situation with Raege. The feeling of defeat did not rest easily on his mind.  
Seething in his humiliation, Dryd returned to his desk, sat down, and opened the file…

Eva Neuehoffe dreamed frequently; so did her sister. The two always interpreted it as a good sign to dream well before battles. Ever since the _Ave Maria_ had come to orbit over Kulth, however, Eva's dreams had grown more abstract, and more disturbing: Visions of halls made from rows of teeth like the maw of a great beast bearing down on her, predatory eyes following her every movement, echoes of screams from some place much farther down the passage.  
Sleep became nearly impossible to her. Fear was an alien feeling to her, and its reemergence put her out of balance. The dreams themselves seemed unimpressive to her when she consciously considered them, yet they sapped her will even with the realization of their insignificance.  
A noise alerted her. Someone was approaching. She had asked the partition screens be drawn around her cot for the sake of her privacy, but it had the added effect of worsening her already feeble disposition.  
"Angela?" She dared call out. The lack of a response only made her nervous. She pressed herself against the back of the cot, as a fearful child would to avoid the manifestations of her imagination. Her throat felt as if it were being tied…  
Then the screen folded back. The ward attendant, an older woman whose appearance was entirely unimpressive, stepped in with a datapad in her hand. "Your sister is here to see you, Eva." She announced, smiling in a manner which irritated the Krieger.  
Angela appeared from behind the shroud, and stepped into Eva's space.  
"You've sure made an incredible recovery!" The attendant said, attempting to start a conversation. Angela looked at her with a blank expression; the attendant ceased to smile and quickly left them.  
Angela slid the screen closed, then faced her twin and smiled; it warmed Eva's mood, and she returned it with the same expression "How are you?" Angela asked, sitting at the edge as Eva shifted in her cot, sitting up beside her sister.  
Eva hesitated for a moment, unwilling to worry her sibling. Angela placed a hand on her thigh, in an awkward gesture of goodwill.  
"Worse." Eva finally admitted. "I mean, I'm fine, but... I..."  
"The dreams." Angela said.  
Eva nodded. "I shouldn't be like this." She said, staring off at the partition. "If I had been like this back in the Korps, I would have been executed. It's not only disgraceful, but it's dangerous, too. If I'm like this on a mission, it'll get people killed."  
Now Angela was quiet for a moment, looking at her sister, thinking of a response. "Eva," she said, softly, placing a hand on her sister's shoulder "I told Levy to recruit you along with me, because I wanted to protect you."  
Eva laughed, softly. "By bringing me to fight space marines?" She joked.  
"That's not…" Angela sighed. She smiled, and ran her hand through her hair. "I needed to keep you safe. We're sisters, we've got to stay together."  
She pulled Eva towards her, and held her close, arms wrapped around her sister. There the two remained.

Raege originally had no intention of staying on Kulth. She had first planned on taking a week to wait in orbit, then move on to Sepheris Secundus from Kulth, but a message which was definitely from Levy was relayed to Raege just before the _Ave Maria_ was set to leave orbit:  
_"Don't leave without further signal."_  
And so Raege stayed, opting to scour the warzones of Kulth for stranded guardsmen. Meanwhile, several troops had managed to bring in the husk of a Leman Russ. Zoya Yaroslava had been ecstatic at its recovery, though it presented the obvious problem of being almost entirely ruined. Repairing it would serve to entertain her and others wonderfully.  
There was also the matter of the Krieg twins - Angela loved tanks. It might have done her some good, as she had not been quite up to speed since her sister had been injured; Raege hoped that salvaging the tank would ease her troubles.  
Her sister was also something of a concern: The medicae staff had informed Raege that Eva was reporting nightmares, and the staff also noted that her general temperament had changed, as though she had undergone mental trauma.  
Work never seemed to end. To that end, however, Raege now had the means by which to maximize efficiency:  
In the near-month which she had been present, Raege had revitalized her forces with soldiers from the campaigns on Kulth, including a pair of Praetorian officers, who would serve to supplement the desperate need for a command structure.  
The two were a peculiar set: Daneel and Wesk Calliban, brother and sister respectively. Daneel, the elder sibling by fifteen years came off as a fellow of remarkable optimism. He and his sister had been awaiting reassignment following a disastrous assault by orks when Raege came to pluck a few people from their station; the Commissar found Daneel in good spirits, while his sibling was disgruntled by what she saw as a string of tactical failures on the part of her commanders. They had both jumped for the opportunity to work for the Inquisition, oddly enough.  
In order to issue guidance to them, Raege had called the two to her usual haunt on the observation deck. She sat in her favorite seat, overlooking the dome on the underside of the chamber: A pack of Firestorm class frigates were in the process of gunning down an ork vessel which had attempted to run through the fleet line.  
The door opened; Raege looked back to see Boone enter. The Commissar's aide did not appear to be in good spirits.  
"You look horrible." Raege commented in a monotonous tone.  
"I'm sorry, Mam." Boone sighed, tiredly rubbing her forehead. "I have an awful headache right now."  
"Did you bring the census file?"  
Boone nodded, and patted a datapad she had tucked under her arm. "Right here!"  
"Fine work." Raege said, glancing at the room's chronometer: It read the time as 0600 hours, sharp. "Hm. Just about time for the two to-"  
The door opened, and in stepped the two Praetorians.  
"Jolly good day to you, Commissar!" Daneel bellowed, bowing to Raege.  
Wesk clicked her heels together. "We do apologize for being a few seconds late," she explained, "we had a bit of trouble finding our way here."  
Raege raised her brow. "Are you kidding? You're exactly on time!"  
"No," Wesk objected, producing a chronometer from her pocket "the time shifted to six hundred hours about fifteen seconds ago."  
Surprised and confused, Raege looked over at Boone, and then back at the siblings. "Very well." She said, nodding. She gestured to Boone, and the psyker handed her the datapad. "Alright. I suggest consulting Lockwood on how to organize the squads." She said, holding out the pad. The two grabbed at it simultaneously, holding it between them and leaning towards it.  
A sharp pang hit Boone, making her dizzy. She took a step back, and rubbed at her forehead, blinking.  
"Splendid, my good Commissar!" Daneel said, practically shouting.  
"The ones you'll really want to take thought into distribution are Neuehoffe's squad, as well as Minhelm's."  
"What of this fellow?"  
"Ah, Lorig is rather inexperienced, I should warn you. He got promoted because his squad's last sergeant ate las..."  
Boone took another step back. Her headache was growing worse by the second. The voices of the others became faint in her head. The pain was tremendous, she felt as if she were going to...  
"So then, if you two are-"  
Boone screamed, and fell to her knees. The others immediately turned to her.  
"Boone! What's the matter?" Raege exclaimed, and quickly rushed to her aide's side.  
"It… hurts!" Boone cried. "Oh, oh Throne! It hurts so much…"

Navigator Yvon fell over, writhing in pain; several crewmen panicked, shouting uselessly for help. Captain Millia looked to the cradle of Astropath Androkulth: She too was experiencing the same sensation as Yvon.  
Calmly, Millia approached the thrashing astropath's cradle. "Mirrielly." She said, firmly. The astropath did not pay heed, and so Millia grabbed her arms, forcing her to stop flailing. "Mirrielly! Calm yourself!" The Captain commanded.  
Heaving, the miserable astropath turned her head to Millia. "There..." She wheezed, unable to continue speaking as she weakly raised a finger in the direction of the prow. After a few seconds, she attempted again: "Ghosts of days long-past... are come through the veil."  
Millia narrowed her eye. "What?" She muttered, and looked out through the forward viewport...

Raege averted her eyes to the view outside; in the distance, a colossal form blinked into existence, hurtling forward, smashing into the frigates and their orky quarry, rendering them as balls of fire as it came hurtling towards the _Ave Maria_.  
"Oh, fiddle dee dee." Daneel simply commented.

Quickly, Captain Millia sprinted to her post, hitting the rail in her frenzy. "Fire retro-thrusters! Twenty degree roll and fire strafing-patterns to port at full forward-acceleration!" She yelled out as loud as her lungs allowed. "Fire reverse thrusters!" As the helmsman franticly undertook her orders, Millia looked off at the approaching space hulk.

While the _Ave Maria's_ reverse thrusters fired, positioning arrays sparked along the port and starboard sputtered, then roared into life, sending the ship into a slow roll; quickly thereafter, thrusters in the opposite direction activated until the ship had ceased to rotate, and then all portside propulsors were set into a heavy burn, hastily distancing the _Ave Maria_ from the hulk, which had closed the distance at an astounding speed. The _Ave Maria_, facing it at an angle, seemed for a moment to be running from it as she pressed away from the space hulk's trajectory.

Calming herself, Millia brushed her hair back, and straightened out her clothing. "Status report." She called out.  
"No damage, no sign of activity from the hulk."  
"Good." Millia said, and leaned forward against the rail. "Put us out another fifteen hundred K forward. I want some damned distance from that thing."  
"Aye, captain."

The enginseer, having been preparing the conference room's projector, turned at the sound of the door opening, and bowed as Raege entered. "The holoprojector has been blessed, and has received all the necessary rites."  
"Thank you." Raege said, bowing to him in return.  
"You are now able to use it." The enginseer added.  
"Thank you." Raege repeated.  
"And, your counsel is anticipated."  
"Yes, I know." Raege nodded. "Thank you."  
The enginseer bowed once again, and shuffled away. Raege stepped up to the projector, and before she tapped the activation rune, she looked back:  
That damned tech-priest was standing in the doorway.  
"Pardon my rudeness, but could you please?..."  
The enginseer, confused, tilted his head.  
Raege made a sardonic face, as though she were looking for a proper word. "… Leave?"  
"Ah, my apologies." The enginseer said, bowing repeatedly. "You may use the machine in private."  
"Thank you." Raege said, breathing deeply. When the tech-priest finally left, she activated the projector.  
Once the device warmed up, she tuned it to the Kulth formation's transmission. Holograms came to life, figures polarized between the obese and the near-emaciated - all of them well-decorated, and in the midst of hot argument. Sitting silent and vexed at the opposite end of the circle of figures was that of Inquisitor Xandru of the Ordo Xenos.  
"I cannot bear this delay any longer!" One, Captain Eskalad of the cruiser_ Intoned Progress_ bellowed. "We must blow that accursed pile apart, right this instant!" The movement of his stubby arm, along with the pounding noise which followed the last few words indicated he was in dire need of a means to stress his point.  
Raege coughed in a forlorn attempt to garner their attention.  
"There is still the matter of the signal being transmitted…" Captain Urien of the light cruiser _Corpus Magnum_ said, as oblivious as his fellows to the Commissar's entry.  
"Gentlemen -" Raege said in yet another effort.  
"Damn the signal!" Captain Aleksy of the cruiser _Mare Divino_ shouted. "A space hulk is a hell made manifest, that thing needs to be destroyed before whatever is aboard it - "  
"But there is no immaterial activity aboard it!" Urien said in a raised voice.  
Inquisitor Xandru took notice of Raege, then. "Quiet! Quiet the lot of you!" He shouted, louder than any of the others, loud enough that the sound conveyors of the projection emitted a loud screech in want of producing the actual volume. "Can you be so disrespectful as to not acknowledge a voice more competent than yours when it speaks?" He said, sharply, pointing to Raege. "I apologize, Commissar. I greet you into this assembly."  
"I take it there has been a discovery?" Raege asked.  
"Yes, there has." Eskalad said with an annoyingly sarcastic tinge to his voice. "Apparently, the space hulk is dead, or so the fools aboard Captain Urien's vessel have said."  
"You are out of line!" Urien snapped. "It is the combined testimony of my astropath, navigator, and twenty-seven battle psykers that the space hulk is devoid of warp activity."  
Captain Aleksy grunted.  
"There is more at work here." Xandru added. "A distress signal is being transmitted from a ship within the hulk's outer mass."  
"What is the vessel?" Raege asked.  
"A former Mechanicus transport by the name of the _Tethysia_." Xandru explained. "We scoured the combined records of our ships, and we found that it was heading out of the Lathes bound for Facrast when it disappeared. The Tech-Priesthood refuses to give us much else."  
"How long ago did it go missing?"  
"About some thirty years ago."  
Raege pondered this for a moment. "I say we organize a rescue."  
"A rescue?" Aleksy scoffed. "You realize that anything living on that vessel is going to be the warp manifest, yes? Especially after thirty years?"  
"The warp does not work by your broken logic, Captain." Xandru chided. "While I honestly doubt it myself, it is possible that someone survived."  
"But it's far too dangerous to waste any time with!" Eskalad objected, shaking his short arm as though the gesture were genuinely noticeable. "Not only are we diverting enough of our firepower to bomb it with the fleet, but we also would need to distract soldiers from the battles with the orks in order to board it!"  
"I can do that." Raege countered. "My unit specializes in these sorts of actions."  
"But we can't wait and watch over the thing while-"  
Xandru growled in irritation. "Eskalad, you waste of air, just shut up!" He commanded, his voice losing any sign of its previous, sophisticated calm. "Every last one of the ground battles are in major population centers right now. Orbital bombardment is not only unnecessary, but ill-advised!"  
Wounded, Eskalad, bowed his head.  
"If it pleases you, then perhaps we should limit Raege's expedition?" Xandru shifted about, calming himself, then looked to Raege. "Well Commissar, starting now, I give you twenty-four hours to make a run through the wreckage of the _Tethysia_ for survivors."  
Aleksy lurched forward, as though about to spit another objection, but a glare from the Inquisitor made him think twice.  
"I accept." Raege nodded. "If you'll excuse me, I must prepare."  
"Indeed." Xandru said, and pressed an obscured rune on his panel; the projection before Raege of the gathered captains flickered out, replaced by an idle menu. She deactivated the projector, and hurriedly set out with an excited bounce to her step.  
In fact, "excited" failed to do justice to her mood.

"You're joking." Lockwood said, staring blankly at Raege. "You've gotta be joking."  
Raege shook her head.  
"A space hulk, Sir?" The Major leaned back against the wall. "Space Marines are one thing, but a damned space hulk? There is a reason the Navy shoots those things apart on sight!"  
"After letting the Mechanicus do their thing, normally." Raege added. "Nevertheless, we're doing this. No arguing."  
"But Commissar, that thing is going to be stuffed full with warp-shit."  
"This one is different for some reason." Raege crossed her arms, and sat back. "Apparently there isn't any warp activity aboard it. They made a big deal out of the fact that none of their psykers were detecting anything from it."  
"Alright, now that just isn't possible." Lockwood objected.  
"Apparently it is."  
Lockwood sighed, and scratched at the back of her head. "So. Tell me what the reasoning is for boarding this deathtrap."  
"We're looking for survivors."  
"Bullshit." Lockwood said, quickly. "If there's anything on that mess, it's going to be leeches, and they'll have cleaned off everything else."  
Raege made a sound of acknowledgement at this point. "Leech" was a common slang term for the infamous genestealer, creatures with a rather unpleasant history amongst both the Imperial Guard and Navy. Raege had to acknowledge their presence was undoubtable.  
"We have to try, anyway." Raege stood up, and stepped towards the door. "At least think of it as a way to scavenge some extra supplies. Now go gather the unit. I'm going to need volunteers."  
Lockwood grunted, and relented. "Yessir." She said, saluting as Raege stepped out. She left shortly thereafter.

"Come on!" Eva shouted back to Angela, egging her sister to keep up with her running. It was at least good to know she was back in proper spirits, if not sufficiently cheerier. Angela smiled softly beneath her mask.  
The two continued, Eva occasionally stopping to let Angela catch up, until they came upon the meeting place - the second freight bay. The entire unit had been told to gather there with full gear and materials to last an entire day. Obviously, something was up, and they were in a hurry to tend to it.  
The twins entered, finding half the unit already sitting on the deck and the other half searching for places to sit. Zoya spotted them, and quickly got their attention with a few waves, motioning for them to sit down by her.  
The twins sat down as Raege, having been checking over the two shuttles in the bay, stepped over to address the crowd. She gave the unit enough time for its entirety to find seats, or get comfortable otherwise, then she tapped her foot.  
"Guardsmen." The Commissar said in greeting, loud enough to be heard, yet calmly soft at the same time. "We've just been handed a major opportunity. I'm sure you'll all recall the ruckus a few hours ago, when the space hulk designated the _Maw of Cruelty_ appeared in orbit... in a collision course with this vessel."  
She began to pace back and forth, keeping her eyes on the gathering. "The hulk is without significant warp activity, astonishingly. This would seem to be an example of the Emperor's benediction, as there is also a distress beacon emanating from a ship on the outer shell of the hulk, the _Tethysia,_ a Mechanicus transport which has been missing for thirty years.. We have been graced with the duty of searching for survivors."  
This news was met by an excited, murmurous mix of surprise and anguish; Raege held her hand up, silencing them once more. "I will only be bringing a small group of about thirty individuals with me. We have been given about a day to explore the ship, but we will only be spending about fifteen hours aboard at tops. I'd much rather be off in ten."  
She clapped her hands together. "Any volunteers?" She dryly asked.  
As much a sad attempt at humor as that was, one hand immediately shot up. Yarn Blaske got on his feet. "I would be honored, Commissar!" He said, as though he was genuinely proud.  
_Fat chance of that,_ Raege thought. "I'm sorry, Yarn, but this is a bit over your head."  
Unsurprisingly, Blaske sat back down with no resistance.  
"That aside," Raege began, looking over the number of her men again "Lieutenant Daneel, Lieutenant Wesk, Major Lockwood, you three are in charge of separate patrols. I'll be leading another team personally."  
Boone stepped forward from behind Raege, and handed her a dataslate. Raege thumbed it on, and looked over the names on it - the names of each squad member.  
"Alright, I want the following sergeants to step up with their squads. Angela, Myers, Minhelm..."

The _Ave Maria_ set out to close the distance with the hulk. All the while, a contingent of the fleet formation cautiously surrounded the mass; the instant any sign of weapon activity came from aboard, they were fully prepared to blast it apart.  
Slowly, carefully, the _Ave Maria_ stopped within a few kilometers of the hulk... almost too close for the comfort of Captain Millia. The wreck of the _Tethysia_ rested within view from the bridge, half-buried in the tangled mess of debris. Guide lights still shone on its hull, and the rest of the vessel was almost entirely intact - it seemed as though it were still void-worthy. Millia gave the word, and a freight-craft, loaded with the Commissar's team, was launched with a clear course.  
Aboard, all members of the search party were fitted in bulky, preposterously old void suits. Raege suspected they would find the ship's environmental systems intact, if only in certain areas.  
Raege checked the chronometer attached to the sleeve of her suit - Another 18 hours remained. Several minutes later, the craft shuddered: They had docked with a hatch on the hull, as the bays were not clear. Raege waddled forward in the bulk of the suit, followed close by Lancaster, who had been challenged with getting a void suit to fit her frame. Raege nodded to her, then to all the others, and pressed a rune on the airlock access panel, and the door opened. The Commissar's team entered first.

The hatch opened with a light creak, and Raege took her first step aboard, then walked further down the passage way with her group close behind. The lighting was barely managing to remain active in the corridor. She detached her auspex from her suit's waist, and began to take readings. After a few moments, it informed her the air was breathable.  
Perfect. She tapped on the side of her helmet, and the others began to take theirs off while she did so too.  
The air was stagnant; the hallway reeked of rot. Tired already of the cumbersome suit, Raege motioned for Lancaster to undo the bindings on her backside.  
"You sure that's a good idea, Sir?" Firch asked. "I mean, what if we run into a section where the air is toxic?"  
"We won't." Raege assured him, as though she could say for certain. She shrugged off the rest of the void suit, and pointed back at the others. "Now, out of your suits, everyone. I need you all mobile."  
She placed her hand to her comm bead as the others worked. "All clear, Major. Air's fine, though smelly. Bring in your team and ditch your suits."  
"You know what you're doing, Sir." Lockwood responded.  
"Alright." Raege turned to her group. "My group, we search for a way down to the engineering decks." She turned back to the hall, and placed her hand to her comm bead again. "Lockwood, you go up to the bridge. Wesk, you check the holds, and Daneel, search the cabins. Let's get to work."  
With that, she set off, into the depths of the wreck.


	13. Chapter 11

**XI**  
**STAR-CROSSED**  
_"Dare you close your eyes while aboard that cursed vessel, and they will never open again."_  
_– Terminator Sergeant Corus of the Death Spirits Chapter_

As Raege passed through the third hallway on her search after dividing up, she glimpsed her first confirmation that _The Tethysia_ was devoid of life:  
After prying open a bulkhead, the stench of old rot hit her, and she discovered beyond it a long corridor, with the first several meters painted with dried blood - and the ground littered with skeletal corpses. Wincing at the stench, Raege carefully stepped over the piles, envying the Krieg twins for their masks; Zoya, while owning a rebreather, had failed to bring it with. Lancaster seemed to be bearing with it, but Carlyle's resilience against the odor proved remarkable, walking over the bodies with the same look of boredom she had held when they first came upon the bulkhead. By contrast, Firch already appeared ill. He was in for a long day, it seemed.  
After a short while of further wandering, Raege's suspicions were once again confirmed, when they came across the corpse of something definitely not human. It was a hideous thing, with a grossly oversized and extended cranium, a plate-covered backside, and a carapace shelling its sprawled limbs - a genestealer, and it was fresh.  
Raege groaned. She held her hand to her ear, and tapped her comm-bead on and off. "Raege here, report in." She said; there was no response.  
The signal was not strong enough to work inside the ship, it seemed. Grumbling, she looked to her vox operator, who was attempting to cope with the stenches assaulting his nose. "Firch, open up the group frequency." She ordered, as she pulled out her pistol. For the sake of caution, she shot the wretched xeno in the head, spilling its brains across the ground. She then turned to Firch while Carlyle took interest in the carcass.  
Raege clicked the vox on, then off, then on again, to alert Tornic and the other vox operators.  
After a few moments, her clicks were responded with another three sets.  
"Calliban. Daneel, specifically." Daneel said in acknowledgement.  
"Wesk Calliban, here!" His sister chirped.  
"It's Zune." Lockwood said.  
"Raege here." She announced. "I've just confirmed there are genestealers aboard."  
Lockwood made an audible groan over the speaker. "Dammit, I knew this thing would have leeches." She said, almost whining.  
"Bug starved ta' death." Carlyle disappointedly noted, kicking the body over. "Not a wound on 'im 'cept whach yew made, an' he be a wee-bit lean fer a 'stealer. Shell's a wee-squishy, too."  
Raege nodded at this. "It seems these things have gone too long without eating. The one here apparently died from lack of food."  
"Exactly how long can they go without chow?" Lockwood asked.  
"I once encountered one which had been locked in a reinforced room for several months," Daneel explained "but I highly doubt they can manage for thirty years."  
"It's as you said, Commissar!" Wesk spoke up. "Time's gone by differently aboard this ship."  
"Indeed." Raege responded. "Be careful. I suspect we'll be encountering several of these. Again, exercise caution." She stressed that last point. "Even if they haven't had food, they are still extremely dangerous."  
"Ah, one thing, Commissar," Daneel began.  
"What is that?"  
"We seem to be lacking a way to trace our path back to the shuttle."  
Raege rubbed at her eyes. How could she miss something that crucial? Firch looked up at her with an expression of uneasiness.  
Lancaster made a choppy gurgling noise, meant to be a laugh. _Ground-walkers kers can't navigate gate._ She sent to Raege.  
"Shut up, Quil." Raege jokingly said, provoking several odd looks from her team, and then clicked the voxcaster channel back open. "Alright, alright. Each team needs to find a way to access the ship's database. Take the layout plans for the vessel. Use them."  
"Got it."  
"Very well then, Commissar!"  
"Will do, Sir!"  
"It's likely we'll run into interference. Until then, report back constantly." Raege said, beginning to step forward, pistol directed further down the corridor. "Raege out."  
Like a tired beast, the whole of the hulk groaned, anxious with the presence of these mortals. They were within the _Maw_ now, and it hungered.

Weapons raised, Lockwood's team continued on, cautiously. The warning of the genestealers had hardly frightened them, but yet what proved truly troubling to them was the fact that the further they went into the ship, the colder it became. To Lockwood, it could only mean that the hulk was not truly dead. The entire hull seemed instilled with misery. She wanted off as soon as they were done.  
Not that she would permit her anxiety to jeopardize the mission - and so she focused. Her priority now was to find a way to access the ship's schematics. The problem confronting this, however, was that she had no idea of just where to begin looking; to resolve that issue, she simply decided to wander and search for salvage, ever-mindful of the genestealer menace.  
She grumbled to herself as she stopped at a bend, positioned her team to check the corners, and then continued along. For a brief moment, she thought she saw something moving further down the next hall... no, she likely did. She kept her hellgun trained ahead of her.  
Meanwhile, close behind her followed one of the men from Sergeant Myer's squad, constantly sounding his disgust of the environment he was in. He was a truly snobbish brat of a man, always proudly bragging that he came from some backwater off in the Segmentum Pacificus. He seemed to be under the impression that it was more important than any other Guard world. His name was Kelly, which never ceased to amuse the more down-to-earth members of the unit.  
In fact, his personality seemed to need a bit of grounding.  
"Kelly," Lockwood called back, perhaps a bit louder than she needed to, "check that room out." She said, pointing to a door ahead on the left, with a large label beside it which identified it as a light-arms munitorum. For a moment, the trooper paused, then he sighed and stepped forward. Lockwood dared not let him see her childish grin.  
He failed to take notice of the clawing sound coming from overhead. As he stepped in front of the doorway, a section of the overhead piping rent apart, spraying steam everywhere as a hideous xenoform pushed itself through the mess. Kelly fell backwards, screaming at the creature while Lockwood put several rounds into its skull.  
Hormagaunt. Lockwood had dealt with them before. They traveled in groups, however, which meant...  
While Kelly continued bawling over the first one, Lockwood began firing into the pipelines further along, and sure enough, foul-colored blood and gore accompanied the escaping steam. The xenos began screeching, calling for help, and immediately a ravenous cluster of genestealers and hormagaunts came scampering from further in.  
"Easy picking!" Lockwood called, and turned her hellgun to the pack while the rest of her squad stepped forward to fire on them as well.

Alien voices cried out from across the vessel. Raege pulled out her auspex, and took a reading of the space around her: She was surrounded by life-signs.  
She was, suddenly, very mindful of her surroundings.  
She raised her autopistol, her eyes constantly scanning the depth of the hall. "Watch your backs, we have bugs." She whispered to the rest of her tem. The entire group turned tense.  
A scurry-like metallic rattle alerted Raege to the area above her, and she immediately fired into the ceiling - her gunfire received a screech as a response, and xeno-blood dripped down onto her.  
"The ceiling!" Raege shouted, firing her autopistol along the path overhead as she ran. The others took up this example, peppering the ceiling with gunfire while following Raege.  
Ahead, a door opened, and out slipped a genestealer, which Raege quickly put down with a skull-pulverizing volley. Another one quickly took its place, and several hormagaunts came dashing from the corridor.  
Raege took out the new genestealer just as it attempted to leap at her, while a shot from Zoya killed the hormagaunt pack's leader. Raege kicked aside another as it weakly swiped at her with its talons, killed the next with a single shot to the face, and then finally blew the other's head off as it attempted to return to its feet.  
While the Krieg twins covered her, she quickly reloaded, just in time to stop another gaunt, which had dodged the suppressive fire, from leaping at her.  
"Quil!" Raege shouted back to Lancaster, who had opted to simply expel some ammunition rather than use her power. "Quil! You think you can find a way out of here?"  
_I can can."_ Lancaster calmly sent.  
"Then lead the way, this place is a blood-bath!" Raege shouted back. Lancaster stepped forward, pointed down a corridor on the right, and hurried ahead of Raege while the Commissar continued firing at the oncoming xenos.  
"You sure that route's safe?"  
_Yes yes._ Lancaster assured, and made a run for; Raege quickly followed, continuing to shoot as long as she could before sprinting along with Lancaster. The rest of the team went ahead with them, covering one-another as they retreated.  
_There's a bulkhead head we can use to cut them off off, up ahead ahead._  
"How do you know?" Raege asked, constantly looking over her shoulder to check the chasing xenos.  
_There just always is is on this sort of ship ip._ Lancaster responded.  
Sure enough, she led them to a reinforced hatch, beside which was a label with several listed items, including "maintenance stairwell", which was why Lancaster had taken them down this path to begin with.  
Raege hurried in behind Lancaster, followed by Eva, Angela, and Zoya... but Carlyle had turned around, knife in-hand, and had begun to attack the closest hormagaunt. While Raege shouted at her to hurry in, she tore away the bladed creature's head with a clean swipe of her combat knife, and then threw the disembodied skull at the others, sending one slipping, and then finally relented and retreated with the others. As Raege pulled the bulkhead shut, a gaunt leapt at the opening - only to be rendered a mess of gore across the space between the two sides of the partition, just as the Commissar closed the gap.  
The air smelled of ozone. Raege looked back at Lancaster, from whose hands steam rose.  
_Don't look at me me, just doing my job ob._  
Raege nodded, and turned to look down the new hall. "So... how much farther should it be?"  
_If we take the maintenance shaft aft, we can get down to the engineering decks ecks._ Lancaster explained, stepping forward.  
"Then let's go." Raege ordered, trailing behind Lancaster, autopistol at the ready.

After over an hour of searching, the most Wesk managed to find intact in the cargo holds were crates of recaf-mix and boxes of what were apparently pieces to cogitators. She had found a ship-diagnostor terminal almost immediately after getting down to the holds, and had taken the ship's mapping information... though the download seemed to burn out the terminal.  
She had encountered no infestation quite like the ones she was getting alerts about from Lockwood's team. She could, however, guess just what the reason for that was - she had noticed in several holds, the corpses of xenos; from the looks of things, they had trapped themselves in and could not break through the reinforced doors of the holds, which had been designed with the possibility in mind of exposing the holds to the void.  
Wesk's team continued onward, a few of the guardsmen carrying salvaged crates of recaf-mix. Bored, done with her allotted task, Wesk had taken to searching through the other cabins on the nearby decks.  
Her attention was caught for a moment when she spotted a service ladder in the corner of one storeroom, and she decided to investigate.  
Stepping into the dim room, she looked back at the others in her command squad. "Come on, I say!" She said, gesturing them in. She looked out at the rest of the group, Minhelm's squad among them, as well as a squad led by Canopian Sergeant Tybal Larenk. "Could the rest of you sit tight for a short bit? I think this warrants investigation!"  
Minhelm looked over to Sergeant Larenk, and the two shrugged.  
"Splendid, I'll return in a moment!" Wesk said, beaming as she hurried into the room, and incautiously climbed up the ladder, to the dismay of her squad.  
She popped open the hatch, and found herself in a pitch-black area. She slipped up out of the hatch-port, and sat against its edge while she fumbled about with her flash-torch. She quickly lit it, and scanned over the room with its light:  
She seemed to be in a medicae bay. The whole room bore the heavy odor of decay, which she attributed to the number of rotted corpses lying on the several tables in the room. Peculiarly, several them were heavily augmented with cybernetics. Almost none of the equipment which surrounded each operating table fit her idea of medical tools.  
The first member of her retinue to come up from the lower floor was Jacobi, who became ill at what he saw. "Oh Throne, those fucking cogboys."  
"What's the matter?" Wesk asked.  
Jacobi took a deep breath as he looked over the room with his augmetic eye. "This is... a 'crew reclamation' facility. They would take corpses of dead crewmen and turn them into servitors here. See all the augmentation equipment? There's an organ-disposer by just about every table, too."  
Wesk, standing over one corpse, immediately stepped away from it. She directed her flash-torch towards the other end of the room while the rest of her team, a Zweihan's Worlder and a Mortressan vox operator, climbed up. "It looks like a normal medicae facility over there, though." Wesk said, uselessly pointing off towards the opposite side.  
"Leave it to the Mechanicus to put their ailed right next to their dead." The Mortressan, Rahm, commented sourly. "No sense of decency."  
As Wesk passed over the bay's features with her flash-torch, one object she came upon made her pause.  
"What is it?" Lorin, her Zweihan's World grenadier asked, following the light with her eyes.  
"A tank, I suppose?" Wesk said, shrugging as she stepped forward towards it, occasionally shining light ahead to make sure she did not collide with anything.  
She stepped up to it. It had an inactive panel beside it, which quickly sprang to life when Wesk against tapped it; she read from the label which appeared:  
"Medical servitor status, unpowered, motivator system offline..."  
"What's that?" Jacobi asked, stepping up behind her.  
"It's a medical servitor container, apparently."  
"Hey, that's a fair bit of salvage!" Lorin called out, carefully pacing along to the other side of the room.  
"You think I should open it?" Wesk called back, her finger hovering over the panel's "open tank" rune.  
"Go ahead. Thing's inactive, can't do any harm. I bet we could get it fixed and running back on the ship."  
Wesk shrugged, and pressed the rune. The screen immediately flashed a warning, informing them it was draining stasis fluid. The metal screen slid open, revealing the contents:  
Illuminated by blue auxiliary lights, suspended by diagnostic cables was what had once been a woman. The suspension fluid she had been soaked in dripped off her form; pale wet skin glistened alongside shimmering metal. To Wesk, she looked pleasant, with a soft expression as though she slept.  
Wesk stepped over, and tugged the servitor out of her case; she yelped, however, when the gynoid servitor proved too heavy for her to hold, and Jacobi quickly grabbed on to the servitor's waist, barely managing to keep the cyborg supported, even with the addition of Wesk pushing on her.  
"Shit, bitch is heavy!" Jacobi grunted. "You, whatever your name is!" He called over to the Mortressan.  
"Rahm." The vox operator snapped.  
"Whatever, just get over here!" Jacobi shouted back. "Help me with this damn thing!"  
While Rahm crossed to the other end of the room, creating a tremendous amount of noise along the way, Wesk continued to look around with her flash-torch; there were blood stains all over the floor, and one particularly large mess seemed to trail...  
Into the corner. Wesk gasped at the pile of mangled genestealer corpses. Sundered limbs lay scattered around the base of the pile. Jacobi glanced over at what Wesk was looking at, only to become completely distracted by the sheer number of bodies; Rahm was left desperately struggling to balance the body, shouting curses at Jacobi.  
Calliban ignored the bickering of the two, perplexed by the scene. "What happened here?..."

A brief scamper met Raege's ears, and she immediately stopped; the others behind her stopped as well. The Commissar peered over the edge of the guide rail, down the spiral - the lights were inactive further down.  
Raege took a chem-torch from her kit, activated it, and then dropped it down the shaft. After falling for about ten seconds, hugging the central support beam the whole way, Raege heard it hit the ground below, and could see it, its dim green glow piercing the gloom.  
Then it began to move, and then it disappeared. Raege narrowed her eyes and sighed.  
"The flooring is damaged." She commented, beginning to continue walking.  
"At least we aren't dealing with bugs." Firch countered.  
"Perhaps." Raege stopped upon hearing the voxcaster click; someone was calling.  
She motioned for Firch to step over. She took the mouthpiece off the set, gave a click in response, then spoke. "Raege here."  
"Lockwood here."  
"Daneel here!"  
"Commissar, I understand we are without medical staff?" Wesk asked over the vox channel.  
Raege raised an eyebrow. "That's correct."  
"Then you'll be pleased to know that I've recovered a medicae servitor!"  
"Really? Where was that?"  
"One of the ship's infirmaries." Wesk answered.  
Raege could hear Jacobi attempting to comment, but Wesk apparently forced him to be quiet.  
"Have you completed your search?"  
"Yes, Sir!" Wesk answered. "Not a soul in the holds. Hardly any supplies either, though we did pick up a few crates of vintage recaf leaves."  
"Those'd probably be worth something." Lockwood commented.  
"Forget that right now." Raege said, checking over the edge of the rail again. "Lockwood, have you made progress?"  
"Hm? Oh yes. My team's been through about three waves of bugs in the last hour, no casualties, we've gotten a map, and we're in the bridge tower." Lockwood explained. "We'll be making a quick sweep through there, but from the looks of things, I doubt we'll find anything."  
"You know the drill, do it anyway. Daneel, what about you?"  
"I have not encountered any problems at all. There are several human bodies in the halls, however, which does not add well to the original mission perspective."  
"No run-ins with the 'stealers?" Raege asked, surprised.  
"Oh yes, but they didn't provide much of a challenge."  
"I see. Wesk, you think you can meet up with your brother?" Raege asked.  
"Probably... Daneel, what deck are you on?"  
"Why, deck twenty three!" Daneel answered.  
"Splendid! We're on deck seventeen, we'll meet up on twenty, shall we?"  
"No, no, good sister, I understand you're lugging about some rather wearisome cargo, so I insist we meet on eighteen!"  
"Certainly!"  
"Good. You two combine your groups and finish up in the crew quarters, then head back to the shuttle. Lockwood, once you've checked the bridge, head back. I won't be much longer either."  
"Yessir!" The Calliban twins said in unison.  
"Understood, Commissar." Lockwood said, and all four groups shut their voxcasters off.  
Raege placed the voxcaster mouthpiece back in its place with the rest of the equipment on Firch's back. "Which reminds me, the original route is something of a problem with all the bugs, isn't it?"  
"I'm surprised they haven't figured out a way around." Zoya commented.  
"They've been here for ages." Firch said. "Maybe they get dumber the hungrier they get?"  
Carlyle, growing impatient, slapped her hand against the rail, causing it to rock. "Aur we guin' noo, er'wha?" She snapped.  
Raege stared at her for a second, before turning back downward. "Yes. Let's go." She began walking, keeping her flash-torch trained on the path steps before her. "Now, Lancaster, do you think you'll be able to find another route back to the ship?"  
_Oh yes yes. Just aaaaaabout every deck has multiple means of traveling up and down own. In fact, I can get us back from this deck._ She pointed a long finger at the closest door, which jutted out of the wall and rested on the outer edge of the steps; the deck number, 5, hung above it.  
"Good. I'm personally beginning to think it's a better alternative to just-"  
The metal of the stairwell groaned. Raege looked around with her flash-torch.  
"Return to the shuttle." She finished. "This ship doesn't appear to be quite as stable as we first thought."  
_Agreed agreed. I'm not liiiiiiiiiking the VIBE I'M GETTING the further down we go ooo._  
Raege turned around, and began to ascend, but the entire stairwell rattled. She stopped, and looked down at the steps below her. The shaft groaned again.  
"That's it. We're leaving." Raege said, stepping up to the deck 6 door and pulling its latch open. The staircase shook and groaned, and Raege, in increasing worry, quickly pulled the door open and stepped in, Lancaster moving to join her in the doorway too.  
Barely in-time, too. Raege watched the stairwell supports snap, and the lower section of the staircase fell apart. "In!" She shouted, motioning for the rest of her group. Firch hurried in quickly, followed by Yaroslava, then Carlyle, and Angela stepped forward...  
Just as Angela stepped onto the door's outcropping, the section of the stairwell they had been standing on collapsed. Eva screamed to her sister, who quickly turned around to attempt to grab her, but ultimately only succeeded in taking the fall as well.  
Raege lunged forward, and grabbed towards them, but Angela failed to get hold of her hand, and the twins fell into the pit. Raege's first instinct was to jump, at least attempt to grab the central support column and slide down, but Lancaster and Yarsolava stopped her, pulling her back and closing the door.  
"Quil!" Raege screamed. "We need to get down there, now!"  
_Calm down down!_ Lancaster said, beginning to pull Raege away. _Come on, we'll take another path to them them!_  
Raege broke free, and hastily began to run.  
"Hurry! Hurry, the lot of you!" She shouted back to the others, sprinting down the corridor, with Lancaster giving chase and the others following close behind.


	14. Chapter 12

**XII**  
**DEATH'S MISTRESS**  
_"With these tools, I bring life, I sustain life, and I take life."_  
_– Physician Branko Apsos, before being executed for heresy._

Slowly, Eva sat up. A pale light flickered in her vision. As her eyes adjusted, she realized it was electricity arcing between two cables. She looked up; she could not see the light of the maintenance shaft above her.  
She quickly remembered her sister had taken the fall with her. She pulled a glow-globe from her kit, and thumbed it on, and with the light she realized her sister was not near her.  
"Angela?"  
A few moments later, Eva could hear scrap shuffling. "Eva!" Angela called out. She was close.  
"Angela! Where are you?"  
"There's a piece of metal between us. Probably part of the shaft floor, I think. Don't worry, sis, I'm on the other side."  
"What will we do?" Eva called back.  
"Hang on, there's a door on this side. What about on your end?"  
Eva held her glow-globe out in front of her. "There's a door here, too."  
"Good! We're close together!" Angela said, happily. "Just hold on, Eva, I'll be over there soon, don't worry!"  
"Angela, wait, I'll meet up with you!"  
"Stay put!" The Sergeant barked, almost desperately. "I'll be over there in a second, just wait!"  
Hearing no further objections, Angela embarked. She forced open the door and entered the hall beyond it, a passage which glowed red by auxiliary lights. She set out down it, and upon making a turn, found herself within a jagged hallway - apparently, pieces of the hull had buckled and warped to form a shape that Angela found to be uncomfortably similar to that of rows of teeth. She carefully stepped over the mess. Further along, she could see a flashing panel, and she quickly realized it was a door control. The sign above the doorway indicated it led to the power cell stores.  
As she stepped towards it, gravity seemed to shift directions, and she found her senses entirely disoriented as it pulled her what had been forward, rather than downward; the grav-plates were failing. She caught hold on a torn, bent rail that jutted out beside the doorway, and then climbed into it, only to have gravity return to normal as soon as she did so. Grumbling to herself, she pressed the "open" rune on the panel, and the door slid open... partially. Angela growled in growing frustration, and struggled to simply force the doors open - she quickly managed to do so, and entered the storeroom.  
The only illumination within the power cell storeroom came from the several broken cables which sparked with electric currents every second or so. The air was unusually moist, which struck Angela as bizarre. On the other side of the room, she saw a door, directly adjacent to the one she had entered by - that seemed the best way to reach Eva.  
Angela quickly ran for the door. Halfway along, she froze; she heard the gurgling growl of a hungry predator. She looked to the side:  
A crouched, multi-limbed silhouette appeared in the flashing light. Angela's head began to hurt.  
The genestealer dropped down to her level, and began to claw its way toward her on four legs. Dazed, Angela fired her lasgun at it, but the most the missed shot did was cause the xeno to flinch. For that brief moment, the pulses of pain meeting her head ceased, but quickly began again, stronger and more constant as the genestealer crawled toward her.  
She screamed, dropping her weapon and clutching at her head as she fell to her knees. She couldn't breathe! She needed to get her mask off...  
She tore it away, and when she looked back, she found herself face to face with the genestealer. The creature narrowed its sinister eyes, and spittle dripped over its lips as its maw opened. Angela suddenly realized she had not been choking at all, and that was the last thought she had...

Eva immediately got to her feet as soon as she heard her sister shriek. She slammed open the bulkhead, and rushed down the warped hallways, turning to the doorway she had heard the scream come from; the door was already partially open, and Eva peered inside.  
What she saw confused her. She could see her sister, back turned to her, but what was this? There was a xeno in front of her! Lasgun ready, Eva tore the door open, alerting both her sister and the genestealer. When the xeno abandoned Angela and charged at her, Eva cracked off a burst of lasfire into it, sending the vile creature back. She continued to fire into it as it writhed about, attempting to stand again. The shots cut into its unprotected underbelly, splitting it in two. With a few last spasms, it finally died.  
"Angela, Angela!" Eva cried as she dropped her gun and ran to her sister, pulling her mask off. Like a child, she buried her face in the heavy fabric of the front of her sister's coat. "Oh thank Holy Terra you're okay!"  
"I told you to wait." Angela said, quietly unstrapping her laspistol's holster.  
"But you were in danger!" Eva argued, standing straight, looking into her sister's eyes. "That thing could have... it could..." She paused for a moment, and against the flashing light, took note of the fact that her sister's pupils were dilated; they seemed entirely unfeeling, mindless. She took a step back, searching for something to say. "Angela... what..."  
As Eva confusedly pieced together the sentence, Angela raised her laspistol, pointing it square at Eva's forehead, and pulled the trigger.  
There was no noise apart from the light crack of the laspistol. As her sister fell, Angela realized what it was she had just done, and she let her jaw drop limp in her horror. Unable to muster up any words, she simply croaked, and began to sob for the body which lay at her feet.

Raege heard the initial scream as she descended upon the second deck, and immediately sprinted into its depths, ignoring the cries of caution from Yaroslava and the others. With Lancaster at her side, she navigated through the ruined passages.  
Running became more and more hazardous the further they traveled, as parts of the hall gave way to torn pieces of scrap, jutting pipes and live wires. Eventually, she came upon a section that was, quite simply, blocked off; a door to the side seemed to be the most viable alternative.  
When Raege opened the door, however, she heard a familiar voice, crying out. A large heap of debris separated the other half of the room, from which the weeping originated, but Raege navigated around that, carefully, with Lancaster following.  
As Raege peeked into the other half of the room, she first saw the genestealer body, and then, the Krieg twins - one lying on her side, presumably dead, and the other, of course, crying for the deceased.  
As Raege stepped forward, she recognized the standing twin to be Angela by the fact that she wore the tell-tale shoulder-plate by which the Death Korps marked Sergeants. Raege cautiously approached her, but Angela took no notice of her.  
"Angela?" Raege softly asked. The Sergeant became stiff.  
"I won't let you hurt it..." She said determinedly.  
"Hurt what?" Raege asked, growing suspicious.  
_Boss, something's not right ight..._ Lancaster warned.  
"I won't let you hurt it!" Angela shouted, spinning to face Raege, madly firing her laspistol; Raege ducked and then dodged another shot, after which Angela angrily snarled, and clutched her head with both hands.  
"I can't, I won't, I won't let you hurt my baby..." She babbled, thrashing about. "Oh, why did it have to be this way?" She began to cry again. Raege looked to Lancaster, as though expecting her to know what Neuehoffe was going on about.  
Raege slowly began to step forward, quietly, as Angela turned away from her again. As Raege crept up behind her, Neuehoffe quickly spun around again, attempting to brain Raege with the pistol. Raege caught her arm before it could hit her, and then kicked Neuehoffe's legs out from under her, bringing her to the ground.  
"Angela!" Raege shouted as she struggled to hold the Sergeant down. "Why are you doing this? Get ahold of yourself!"  
Neuehoffe quickly broke free, slamming the handle of her pistol against Raege's cheek. As the Commissar recoiled, Angela got back to her feet, pushing Raege back with her boot, then aiming.  
During the instant Angela hesitated to fire, Lancaster launched a bolt of electricity at her, sending her to the floor, stunned. As Angela attempted to recover, Raege quickly leapt onto her, breaking her grip on the laspistol then throwing the weapon aside. As Neuehoffe attempted to swing her numbed arm, Raege hit her with a heavy, jaw-dislocating punch; Angela's head swung to the side; she did not move again.  
Raege got up from the Sergeant's unconscious body, and brushed her hair back. "What the blazes was that?" She snapped. As she backed away, Firch entered, and then so did Yaroslava and Carlyle. Yaroslava covered her mouth at the sight, gasping out of shock.  
"Noo wah' happened here?" Carlyle bellowed.  
Raege looked at the genestealer - the xeno's body was practically cut apart by lasfire; she then looked to Eva's body - it was turned away from her. Raege approached her, and then pulled her over onto her back:  
There, on her forehead, was the burnt-black mark of a las-wound.  
Raege breathed in and out, deeply, and rubbed at her eyelids. "Dammit. Warp-be-damned, this is all my fault."  
Firch stepped forward. "What happened? Did the leech kill them?"  
Raege looked at him, and shook her head. "Far worse."  
Yaroslava dared approach her sergeant. "Is Angela..."  
"Dead? No, I just knocked her out." Raege answered.  
"Why?"  
"She pulled a gun on me." Raege explained. "I have a bad feeling I know why, too..."  
Firch turned pale, and looked at the genestealer. "You don't mean..."  
Raege grimly nodded as she frowned at Angela's body. "She was ranting about protecting 'her child'. She's received the 'genestealer's kiss', it would seem."  
"What are you going to do with them?" Yaroslava asked.  
Raege looked over the scene. For several seconds, she considered her course of action; then, wordlessly, she approached Angela and kneeled, then slid her arms under her and picked her up.  
"We leave Eva. We take Angela back with us." Raege said, stepping forward.  
"Are you sure that's such a good idea, Sir?" Firch objected. "I mean, Angela's..." He coughed.  
"I know." Raege answered. "I want to see what the medicae staff on the _Ave Maria_ can do for her. Surely they can fix her."  
"But why are we leaving Eva?" Yaroslava quickly followed behind Raege as she stepped out. "Doesn't she deserve a burial?"  
"She'll get one." Raege replied, not looking to Yaroslava; the rest of the team quietly followed her out of the room. "She'll get a funeral pyre when the fleet bombards this thing."  
"But that's-"  
Raege sighed. "I don't like this, but the crew can't find out what happened." She explained. "Please, you must all keep quiet about this. Tell nobody what happened to the twins. If anyone asks in the future where they are, I'll explain they are down planetside, on a mission."  
Yaroslava winced, clearly pained by this decision; yet, she relented.  
Raege motioned for Firch to step up to her once they had left the damaged area of the ship. She laid Angela down on the floor, and took the mouth-piece from Firch's vox...

When Lockwood reached the bridge decks, she quickly discovered a distinct problem, that being the bridge had been automatically sealed off at all points. Every door leading into it flashed the warning, "_VOID EXPOSURE_".  
That really seemed to simplify things, and so the Major turned her group around. Just as she was about to leave the bridge tower, however, Tornic tapped her shoulder.  
"Vox call, from the Commissar." He told her, handing her the voxcaster mouthpiece.  
The Major took it from him. "Lockwood." She said into it.  
"Daneel here!"  
"Wesk, also!"  
"This is Raege, I assume everyone is finished up?"  
"Yessir, not a soul aboard." Lockwood answered.  
"My sister and I have met up and are on our way back to the shuttle." Daneel said.  
"I'm on my way there, too." Lockwood added.  
"Okay, good." Raege commented. "Listen, I'm going to look into possible survivors. Go ahead and get back to the ship, have the shuttle come back for me once you're back on the _Ave Maria_."  
"You sure that's a good idea? I mean, maybe I should divert one of my squads?"  
"No." Raege sharply answered. "Just go ahead and get going. I need to get this done, I can't wait on you."  
Lockwood raised an eyebrow at this. "Alright, Sir. See you soon."  
She handed Tornic the mouthpiece, and checked over her squad; Myers stood out amongst them, covered in alien blood, having done the most killing out of all the others. In fact, his footprints left stains on the floor. Rather impressive work, especially for such a squeamish man.  
Content that nobody was missing, she motioned for them to carry on on, and so she continued.

From the safety of the _Ave Maria's_ observation deck, Raege watched as the Navy vessels opened fire on the space hulk. She gave a calm and taciturn outward expression, but she knew that Lancaster could see straight through this guise.  
_How are you holding up up?_  
"Fine." Raege deadpanned.  
_You sure youuuuuuuu don't want want to talk about it it?_  
Raege lowered her head, and closed her eyes. "I failed, Quil. I really did." She took her cap off, and ran her hand through her hair. "That could have gone a lot worse than it did, but I went and sent us on that mission to begin with. Why?" She looked over at Lancaster, who stood in the shade provided by the star of the system, off in the direction of the hulk.  
"I knew from the start there was nobody alive on that dump." She said, growing morose. "I just wanted to fight. How utterly fikking childish!" She shook her fist, as though pounding on something which was not there. "And because of me, one of the top members of my unit has been violated by a xeno, and has killed her own sister under the creature's influence. I cannot imagine the sort of trauma that information will inflict when she finally returns to normal."  
_You couldn't have known that would happen en._ Lancaster argued.  
Raege said nothing; she did not wish to say anything, as the ship's Master-Physician had just entered the lounge.  
He drew near her, and saluted. She nodded to him. "Can you save her?"  
The physician motioned for her to follow him, and the two stepped over to another part of the lounge. For a moment, he drew breath, searching for something to say. "We... have enacted the first few therapeutic initiatives towards surgery... but the problem is, none of my staff can perform the sort of procedure this would require, myself included. We would likely kill her in the process."  
"Can you not find someone who can?"  
The Master-Physician solemnly shook his head.  
Raege sighed. "So... what do you intend to do? Is there anything you can do?"  
"We'll put her in cryo-stasis in our critical condition ward once we've undertaken all the pre-op procedures. She won't be bothered there by non-staff members, and it will keep her condition as it is presently. She needs advanced medical treatment, and I'm afraid we are just not precise enough to give it to her."  
"What about the medical servitor that we salvaged?"  
"That thing? I don't know. I doubt it can really do anything ours can't. Or maybe it could, if the damned tech-priests can figure out how to activate it." The physician grumbled loathingly at the mention of the Mechanicus. "I'm sorry, Commissar, but it's not looking too bright for Sergeant Neuehoffe."  
"I see. Thank you." Raege gave him one last nod, and sent him away. She returned to her place, observing the space hulk as fragments broke away in great, furious explosions.

"Amazing! Absolutely amazing!"  
Raege paused for a moment as she entered the repair ward; that was not a voice she recalled hearing on any of her trips into the Tech-Priesthood's facilities onboard the _Ave Maria_.  
In fact, as she looked into the room where the salvaged servitor had been placed, she identified multiple individuals who were definitely not part of the crew: Chief amongst them was a bulky individual who wore, in addition to the rust-red robes of the Mechanicus, the regalia of the Cyber Seer.  
One of his optical mechadendrites, writhing about, pointed towards Raege, and he immediately turned to her. "Ah! And you are the one whose team discovered this beautiful relic?"  
"I am..." Raege answered cautiously.  
"I must commend you on this fine recovery, and your willingness to donate it to the servants of the Omnissiah!"  
"I didn't ever say I was giving it out." At this, several of the ship's technographers present in the room became nervous.  
"But you don't understand, I am here on behalf of the honored Magos Kyriksi to recover this artifact,"  
"And I just need it repaired. That thing is going to save a life."  
"Bah! Have you no appreciation for the Priesthood's missions?" The Cyber Seer bellowed.  
"Not really, I just want that thing activated. Are you unable to do that?"  
The Cyber Seer reeled back. "I... of course I am!"  
"Then why is it not functioning?"  
"I have not..."  
"You can't get it to work, can you?" Raege put her hand to her face. "Look, I never offered to donate it."  
"It will be coming with me, anyway! You dare defy the Tech-Priesthood of Mars?"  
"You dare defy the Inquisition?" Raege mockingly snapped, and immediately, the Cyber Seer recoiled. "That servitor has been claimed by the agents of Inquisitor Tobias Levy. You have no right to take it from his ownership."  
The Cyber Seer looked around the room at the others of his Priesthood. "So be it, but we shall not provide any assistance to you in repairing this drone." He said, and, quickly gathering his followers, brushed past Raege and left.  
Raege turned to the ship tech-priests who remained present. "So none of you can fix this?"  
All of them, all members of different ranks of the Tech-Priesthood, shook their heads.  
Raege disgustedly grunted at them, and stormed out.

Raege then went round the ship on her routine of inspection, congratulating those who had participated in the boarding action, and during this time, nobody asked about the Krieg twins; apparently they had all contented themselves on the story Yaroslava and Firch had given them, which pleased the Commissar.  
In addition to her usual route, Raege visited the medicae ward, conversed lightly with the staff, then snuck into the emergency ward, where Angela was concealed during her therapy. She was being kept constantly under anesthesia, and had not been conscious since her time aboard the space hulk.  
When she finally returned to her office, Raege found a data-slate awaiting her on her desk. Tiredly, she sat down and thumbed it on: It contained an encrypted message, and judging from the indicators, it was from Levy. She keyed in her password, and the auto-decrypters immediately got to work deciphering the message:  
_"Raege,  
I'll be coming to pick you up in the next week. Be ready." _  
Almost expecting something more, Raege stared at the translated message for a minute, before finally shutting the data-slate off. She sat back in her chair, and closed her eyes.  
Unlike any incident before, even the disaster on Kranenstaz, the sense of failure now hung over her. She did not take failure well.

Seven days after the destruction of the _Maw of Cruelty_, Raege sat down in her usual spot in the observation deck lounge, and reclined back, gazing out at the scene beyond the ship. Vessels of all sizes drifted in and out of view, fighter squadrons on patrol darted past...  
A light cruiser zoomed by, climbing upwards from Raege's perspective. She sat forward, her attention suddenly drawn to it. The structure, the spacing of the spires, the sharp angle of the prow, the dark blue hull! She knew that ship!  
"The _Stranberg_!" She excitedly shouted, and dashed off the observation deck, intent on going up to the bridge.

Millia simply watched as the Commissar ran onto her deck, stopping only upon finding the communications warden.  
"I need you to hail this frequency!" She hurriedly said, shoving a slip of paper into his face.  
"But Ma-Sir, I was about to-"  
"Just do it!"  
Millia leaned forward at this point. "Do as the Commissar instructs you to, Officer. Duties can wait a bit."  
"Aye, Captain." The warden operator wearily said, and began tuning the ship's vox to Raege's specifications. After a few moments, he nodded to her, handing her his headset.  
Raege took it, adjusting the comm-bead to her ear. "Hello? This is Commissar Conrad Raege, aboard the _Ave Maria_, hailing the _Stranberg_! You there, Lincoln?"  
"By the Throne!" Came the bellowing reply. "Raege, what are you doing all the way out here?"  
"A long story, one I may or may not be able to tell you."  
"I'm sure you'll be able to, especially after a few glasses! I picked up this splendid vintage a few months ago, all the way from out in the Winterscale Realm! You simply must come over soon and try this!"  
Millia, hearing all of this by way of her own personal comm-unit, raised an eyebrow at this.  
"I'll have to take you up on that, Lincoln, but I've got something I need done. Is Ohmi still part of your crew?"  
"Aye, she is. You want her help for something?"  
"Yes." Raege said. "I need her help."  
"Very well then, my fair Lady, anything for you! I'll send her over right away! We've got your ship on auspex... now, might I be able to speak with her Captain?"  
Millia straightened out her posture out of habit, and clicked her bead on. "You may." She said firmly. "Captain Anatia Millia of the _Ave Maria_."  
"And hail to you, my fellow void-farer! Captain Lincoln Sandhammer of the _Stranberg_, at your service!" Sandhammer replied. "Now, might I be able to send over a shuttle?..."

Raege had summoned Grin and Branz to stand guard only as a formality to the arrival of the shuttle in one of the _Ave Maria's_ bays; she knew Sandhammer, ever careful, would be watching by means of his servitors, and she knew how much he delighted in such displays.  
The shuttle floated into the bay, and softly touched down. Its passenger hold door lowered open, forming a ramp for the individuals within. A mechadendrite extended out from the bay, and latched onto the doorway. Using this as leverage, the Tech-Priestess Wierzbowski pushed her self out from the shuttle.  
"Conrad!" She exclaimed, and skipped forward, wrapping her arms around Raege.  
"Ohmi! It's great to see you again!" Raege happily said.  
As they briefly exchanged words, another individual appeared from the shuttle - a big, brawny man with impressive facial hair, and an outfit which almost resembled that of a Navy officer.  
Branz stepped forward. "I apologize, sir, but we were told to only expect one guest."  
The man looked over to Branz. "But I am the Captain!" He objected. "I wished to speak with my colleague aboard this ship!"  
Branz was taken aback by this. "I apologize, Sir, we would have prepared something more had we known you'd be coming aboard..."  
Raege glanced over at the scene. "He's fine. Send him up to Captain Millia for me, Mik."  
Branz saluted the Commissar, and bowed to Sandhammer, who stepped off the shuttle, and then permitted Branz to lead him away.  
Grin watched them leave, and then, lacking any other distraction, watched the two women.  
"I'm so glad to see you again, Ohmi, I really can't describe to you how much so." Raege said, smiling. The expression made Grin cringe in fear.  
"Yes, yes, it's great to see you too, Connie. Now, Lincoln said you needed me?"  
Grin glimpsed down at his leg - one of Ohmi's snake-like manipulator mechadendrites was writhing about at his leg. He had not been given permission to put himself at ease, and so he dared not move.  
"My team recently salvaged a medical servitor. The Tech-Priests aboard can't figure out how to work the damned thing." Raege explained.  
Without turning his head, Grin worriedly stared down at the mechadendrite - it was beginning to slide around his waist. He resisted the urge to say something.  
"A medical servitor?" Wierzbowski scoffed. "They're having trouble fixing a servitor?"  
"Apparently it's ancient." Raege added.  
The length of the mechadendrite was beginning to lightly twist around Grin's chest.  
Ohmi laughed. "Fix an archeotech medical servitor?" She said, patting Raege on the shoulder. "I thought I would be called in for something more difficult."  
"Good to hear you're up to it."  
Grin gulped. "A-ah... um... C-Commissar, Miss Wierzbowski, I..."  
Raege finally bothered to look at Kas's predicament. She coughed, and pointed him out to Wierzbowski.  
"Oh!" Ohmi quickly unwrapped the mechadendrite from around Grin. "Terribly sorry, kiddo." She looked back to the Commissar. "Now, Conrad, shall we see to this servitor?"  
"Yes." Raege nodded to Grin. "At ease." She ordered, and left, with Ohmi trailing close.  
After a few moments, Grin relaxed his posture, and exhaustedly sighed.

As Enginseers and Mech-Wrights distractedly gathered to watch, Ohmi Wierzbowski set to work running her diagnostic. Cautiously removing pieces all across the body of the servitor, she did not permit anybody else to approach her, and shooed off any offers of assistance.  
While the rest of the ship's Tech-Priest staff gazed in awe as though watching some dramatic performance, Raege patiently waited. She noted every instance in which Wierzbowski would form an expression of sheer shock, or surprise - those moments were incredibly rare, in the case of Ohmi. Raege quickly realized she had stumbled on something very special. She would have to reward Wesk for finding it.  
After a few hours, with the other Tech-Priests gone so that she might work in peace, Ohmi stepped back, and wiped the sweat from her brow. "Wow." She commented, and looked about at the others. "This thing is... quite impressive."  
"Is it working?" Raege asked.  
"It looks like it." Ohmi said, nodding. "The basic processes are running on the central cogitator, but we won't know exactly until we start her up."  
"Do it." Raege said, suddenly becoming anxious; Ohmi's emotions matched hers closely.  
The Tech-Priestess nodded, and applied an electrical charge to the servitor's systems, jump starting it.  
The light-veins across the servitor's chassis lit up, and her cyber-oculus opened. Her face relaxed into a cheerful expression, and she noiselessly stood, taking in her surroundings. On her back, a small mechadendrite writhed about, at the end of which was a small human skull, outfitted with optical systems and medical equipment.  
Raege slowly walked forward, gazing at the servitor, which met her stare almost casually.  
"Greetings." The servitor said, in a voice that was unusually sweet. "I am Dietrich. And you are?"  
Raege cocked an eyebrow. "I didn't realize servitors went by names."  
"I am exceptional." Dietrich said, plainly.  
"Exceptional?" Wierzbowski tilted her head.  
Dietrich turned both her head and the skull on her mechadendrite to Ohmi. "That is what I was told."  
"By who?"  
"A friend."  
Ohmi looked over at Raege, confused, then back at Dietrich. "Who was the friend?"  
"A friend."  
"I see..." Ohmi folded her arms. "Servitor, shut down now."  
Dietrich simply stood, smiling at her.  
"Shut down." Ohmi repeated.  
Dietrich continued to stare contentedly at her.  
Ohmi narrowed her eyes. "Dietrich," she said "please shut down now."  
"Of course. Good day." Dietrich said, before sitting down and deactivating.  
"Well." Ohmi kneeled down beside her, and began to open up diagnostics panels on her backside. "That was interesting."  
"Is it just me, or did it just..."  
"Exhibit a personality? It's not just you." Ohmi said, toying with the mechanisms again. After a few seconds of looking over the seemingly incomprehensible data, she recoiled. "Just what in the name of Drusus is this?" She exclaimed. "I don't think I can call this programming!"  
"What is it?"  
"Her cogitator looks to be built for much more complicated sapience than your normal servitor." Ohmi said, shutting the diagnostics down and closing the panels. "She can think. She identifies herself as an individual."  
"Is this dangerous?"  
"Not by the looks of it."  
"So what was wrong before?" Raege asked. "Anything serious?"  
"No, she just was in stasis so long she needed a diagnostic to continue functioning." Ohmi said. "What was I thinking?" She joked, and applied another charge to Dietrich, reactivating her.  
Dietrich, fully energized, looked up at them. "Am I without damage?"  
"You are completely clean, Dietrich." Ohmi said, standing up; Dietrich stood as well. "I, uh... I guess I should introduce myself. Ohmi Wierzbowski."  
"Conrad Raege." The Commissar said, tipping her cap.  
"It is a pleasure to meet you both." Dietrich said, joyfully. She looked around. "The design of this area appears to imply a vessel, but it does not match the specifics of the _Tethysia_. I assume I am elsewhere?"  
"You're aboard the _Ave Maria_." Raege explained. "Your last ship has been destroyed to remove a taint."  
"I see. This is logical, as we were being overrun with xenoforms identified as genestealers."  
"What happened?"  
"I do not have the details, but I was activated in order to assist with an attack on the medicae ward." Dietrich explained. "I assume they were desperate by that point."  
"I see..." Raege bowed her head. "So. You are not troubled being assigned to a new ship?"  
"Oh no," Dietrich shook her head "I am only glad that I might be of use to someone else."  
"Very well then." Raege nodded. She looked to Wierzbowski. "Thanks, Ohmi. Thank you so much."  
"No problem, Conrad." Wierzbowski smiled. "Shall we show Dietrich to her new station?"  
"That would be very much appreciated." The servitor said.  
"Alright." Raege said, and motioned for the two to follow her out.

Dietrich showed great excitement as they entered the medicae ward. In fact, she practically spun about as she looked around.  
As Raege watched her wander, Boone entered. "Mam, Captain Millia and, um... Captain Sandhammer wanted me to find you." She announced. She glanced over at Wierzbowski. "Captain Sandhammer has heard you are finished, and wishes to leave now."  
"I see." Wierzbowski said, and gave Raege one last hug. "See you around, Conrad."  
"See you, Ohmi." Raege said, and waved to her as she left the room.  
Boone stared uneasily at Wierzbowski as she left. "Did... did she just call you..."  
"What?"  
"N-nothing." Boone said, shaking her head. "Um... I think the Captain wished to speak to you."  
"I'll be up to see her in a little while. Get back to your duties."  
"Yes'm." Boone said, feigning enthusiasm, and scurried out.  
Raege made sure they had left, and approached Dietrich. She had begun to hum to herself.  
"Is something the matter?" The servitor said, in a tone better-used by a mother.  
Raege motioned for her to follow, and took her into the critical condition ward's stasis tanks, and showed her to Angela.  
Dietrich looked over Neuehoffe's form within the tank. "This individual appears to be fine, apart from well-healed bruising to the left side of her face..."  
Raege coughed. "She, ah... she isn't fine." She said. "She's been... assaulted by a genestealer."  
"Ah. I understand what you are alluding to." Dietrich nodded. "I am fully capable of performing surgery to remove the taint, but standard procedure requires pre-operation medical therapy."  
"It's already been undertaken."  
"Then I am able to begin at any time."  
"Please, as soon as you can. I'll go alert the staff." Raege said, and then left. Dietrich patiently waited.

After informing the Master-Physician that Dietrich was prepared, Raege went up to see Millia, who waited on her in her planning room.  
"Captain Sandhammer is... an interesting individual." Millia commented as Raege entered. "He sat down in here with me, produced a flask of amasec to share as we spoke, and helped himself to my walnuts. He broke the shells with his bare hand. Did I mention he came aboard unannounced?"  
"Lincoln doesn't adhere too well to common courtesies." Raege said. "He's also rather cautious. I think that might have had something to do with him not announcing that he'd be coming onboard.."  
"He also didn't take much time to wait before leaving." Millia said. "Port-side auspex just watched his ship fly off practically the instant he went aboard."  
"Like I said, he's cautious." Raege repeated. Millia snorted at this. "Excuse me, Captain, do you have any further need of me? I have something urgent to attend to."  
"Not immediately, no, but I just received a message from our friend, Levy." Millia said. "He's arrived in the system. He exited warpspace a bit too far out, but he'll be here in the next few hours."  
"Ah." Raege acknowledge this, then nodded to Millia. "If you'll pardon me..." She quickly stepped out, and hurried back down to the medicae ward.

When Raege arrived, she found the Master-Physician awaiting her. He hurriedly led her to one of their operating rooms. Beyond the observation pane, Angela rested unclothed under anesthesia, and Dietrich set to work performing her initial inspection.  
"Subject is carrying embryo, approximately four weeks into development." She commented over the room vox, as she hovered the diagnostor mechanism of her manipulator-arm over Angela's naked belly. "Embryo is showing significant mutation. Confirmed xeno-malignance."  
Raege narrowed her eyes. She stepped up to the room vox panel, and flipped the exterior microphone on. "Did you just say four weeks?"  
"Yes." Dietrich said plainly, preparing for surgery.  
"But she was only attacked a week ago!"  
"Perhaps the genestealer embryo develops much faster?" The Master-Physician suggested.  
"This does not fit with known xenologic accounts. First-generation offspring are known to develop at the same rate as typical human infants." Dietrich explained as she began to make an incision. "There are, however, documented cases of genestealers corrupting already-developing human embryos and fetuses."  
"So she was pregnant..." The Commissar said to herself, slipping back.  
Within the room, the numerous, dexterous blades of Dietrich's manipulator arm set to work. Raege stepped out, too transfixed upon the matter just brought to her attention. This was just too much as it was.

Inquisitor Levy appeared within the next hour. With a bit of effort, he found Raege sitting by herself in the observation lounge.  
"Ah! There you are, Commissar!" He said cheerily.  
Raege turned her head to him. He was in fair condition. He walked with the assistance of a cane, however, which she raised an eyebrow at.  
Ley took notice of her staring. "Oh, don't mind this thing. I needed it for a while after my 'little stroke' a while back, but now I think I've come to enjoy going around with this thing. Quite fashionable, don't you agree?"  
Disinterested, Raege turned her head back to the view of the planet. "What have you come for?"  
"To pick you up." Levy answered. "I have splendid news, you see. The Conclave decided to hold a hearing on the matter of the Knights Teutonic."  
"Simply over our little feud?"  
"Oh no." Levy shook his head. "They've been causing the Ordos problems for years. Don't get me wrong, they serve a purpose, though it's questionable whether that purpose is really worth them razing every planet whose leader accidentally sneezes in a Knight's presence."  
"Something else has happened?"  
"Plenty. The complete destruction of the forge world Rathes during a period of rebellion, for one. An assault on agents of Inquisitor Worten, improper claim-laying to planets, undue process in the execution of supposedly-heretical Inquisitor Antony, numerous assassinations, only to name a few other transgressions."  
"Good Throne." Raege softly commented.  
"Quite." Levy tapped the floor with his cane. "Perhaps we should get under way?"  
"There's one thing I need to check up on, first." Raege said, standing, and purposefully walking out past Levy.  
"What would that be?" The Inquisitor asked, casually following her.  
"Just an injured soldier." Raege replied.

Levy took a moment to look over the expanse of the medicae facility before continuing along at Raege's rushed pace for the emergency ward.  
She stopped in front of Angela's operating room, and found Angela, covered, lying undisturbed on the operating table within. Dietrich was still within, turned away, cleaning her tools from the looks of it.  
"Oh my. Did something happen to Miss Neuehoffe?" Levy asked. Raege nodded.  
"It's a bit of a long story. Her sister is dead."  
"How terrible! It must have been very hard on her."  
Raege sighed. "It will be…"  
Dietrich turned back to them, then. Levy suddenly frowned, and narrowed his eyes. Raege took notice of this.  
"Surgery was successful." Dietrich said upon seeing them. She paused for a moment as she noticed Levy, as though she recognized him. She quickly stepped through the door.  
"Hello again, Mister Levy."  
Raege raised her brow at this.  
The Inquisitor grinned. "I… can't say I recall owning a servitor." For a moment he gazed at her, and then realized Raege was watching with confusion. He coughed. "Ah, I have already met… Dietrich. I came by here earlier to, ah, have a cut examined."  
"You've been aboard a while?"  
"Oh yes. I've been looking around for you." Levy said. "Erm, go on ahead and pack your things. I'll meet you at my shuttle. Bay twenty three, as always."  
Raege saluted to him, and then stepped out, confused.  
As soon as the Commissar was out of sight, as soon as he was sure there was nobody else around, Levy turned to Dietrich. He leaned towards her, and kissed her.  
"You're still exceptional." He whispered as he drew away from her. He began to step back, facing her as long as he could, waving to her, until he finally turned around.  
"Thank you, Tobias." Dietrich softly replied as the Inquisitor left.  
"You are still a piece of work."


	15. A Memory, II

**TEACHER**

The Commissar paced back and forth, his hand sliding along the balcony guide rail. Below him, rows of students sat in silence as they read their day's passages from the Orthodoxy. They surely knew the Commissar was there, even if he was hidden in the deep shadows the architecture's angles and columns, ornate statues and vaulted arches provided - the sound of his steel-heeled boots against the stone of the Schola floor was inescapable and unmistakable. Not one dared to look up, however. It was against the rules, after all, to distract oneself from scripture-reading. For any other observer, they might have dared glance up, but in the case of the Commissar, it was not something to even consider, lest he sensed the thought.  
Fear. The ultimate lesson he could give. For those unable to see the true glory of the Emperor, fear was the only means by which to be kept in line. To incite true fear, examples needed to be made, so that authority might be established...  
However, it was that philosophy, and the Commissar's strict adherence to it, that was his ultimate downfall. The Schola's master was not pleased with his decision to execute his last pupil. At this thought, the Commissar snorted, causing several of the students below to visibly flinch. The fools.  
He heard another individual approach the balcony. He calmly turned, and was greeted by a hooded man standing in the doorway.  
"Commissar-"  
The Commissar tapped a gloved finger against his mouth, and gestured towards the students.  
The hooded man mouthed an "ah"; he nodded to the Commissar, then turned and began to step down the hall. The Commissar followed.  
Once they were some distance apart from where they might be disturbing studies, they began to speak again.  
"I must once again apologize for bringing this to you so suddenly -"  
"I understand, Inquisitor." The Commissar quickly said.  
"Right." The hooded man nodded. "I have spoken with the staff about our arrangement. You will not receive further scrutiny for the... last incident... that is, only if you ensure that this one is not harmed."  
The Commissar huffed at this. "Harm is inevitable, I'm afraid."  
"I understand, but please, try not to kill her," the hooded man held a hand out from under his cloak "I have great plans for this one."  
"You surely understand, Inquisitor," the Commissar turned to him "that is not how I work. If she proves unable to live up to my expectations, she will die."  
The hooded man nodded at this, defeated. "Very well. Shall we meet her?" The Commissar nodded to this.  
"Excellent!" The hooded man clasped his hands together. "She is waiting in the Abbess's office."

Conrad Raege sat in silence, staring at the floor. It was almost too much for the Lady Inquisitor to bear.  
"So!" She clapped, and leaned forward - the young orphan was now staring blankly at her. This had not been the first point in their journey to Hetrodyne where the Lady Inquisitor had attempted to socialize with Conrad. The several other times, aboard _The Heart of Glass_, had ended awkwardly... with that same look the little girl was giving her now, as though she were drilling holes through the Lady Inquisitor's eyes. She supposed it might have something to do with her nature...  
She felt as though she needed to say something, nevertheless. "You ever had a boyfriend?" The Lady Inquisitor asked, leaning further forward. She could swear Raege's face turned slightly red for a moment as she looked away. _Aha! So she hasn't..._  
The Lady Inquisitor smiled. "You're such a cute, young girl, though! I'll bet all the boys are asking you out..."  
This was met by another stare. The Lady Inquisitor coughed.  
"They did."  
"Oh?" The Lady Inquisitor raised an eyebrow at this.  
"I usually beat them for it."  
The only moment of conversation, and it was spent telling her to _stop talking_. The Lady Inquisitor sighed, and sat back, crossing her arms. She once again sat and watched Raege in an everlasting staring contest, until a voice at the door caught the attention of the two.  
"I should warn you, this one has had... an interesting upbringing."  
"I heard."  
Raege's eyes narrowed at this.  
"I suspect she may have something of a complex, since her father... well-"  
"I have heard, Inquisitor. I read your file on her before you arrived."  
"Ah, Levy." The Lady Inquisitor whispered, just loud enough that Conrad might hear, shaking her head. "Always unconcerned with who you're offending."  
"Well, shall we?"  
"Please."  
The door opened, and in stepped the Commissar, with Inquisitor Tobias Levy following him in. Levy shut the door behind him, clapped his hands together, and looked about at the others. He quickly noted his Inquisitorial companion was staring at him with a hard expression.  
"... What?" He asked, smiling like a fool, then gestured to Conrad. "Commissar, this is-"  
"Conrad Raege." The Commissar deadpanned. He stepped forward, gazing coldly at Conrad. She met his eyes determinedly. The Commissar's expression turned to a scowl.  
Levy gulped.  
After a few intense seconds, the Commissar grinned, then laughed. "I like this one. She can meet a challenge." He patted her shoulder, and looked to the two Inquisitors. "So, you want me to turn this young lady into a full-fucking-blown field-Commissar."  
Levy nodded. "Yes, that would be wonderful."  
"So be it." The Commissar turned his head once again to Conrad. "You're sixteen now?" She nodded. "Well then, for the next six years your life is going to be fucking harsher than your wildest dreams. I am going to make you a Commissar with no compare, you will be strong, you will be brave, you will be terrifying!"  
He lightly slapped her cheek. "You will be a completely different person. If you fail to achieve my standards, if you fail yourself and your Emperor, you will die for it."  
"Now, come child!" He bellowed, and made for the door. Raege immediately followed.  
Before he even stepped out, he looked at her, and kicked her hard in the side of the leg, causing her to fall to her knee. "Stand straight when you walk! Posture!" He commanded, then walked out. She followed behind him, closing the door. Within a few moments,  
Levy turned to the Lady Inquisitor. "Well! I'm sure that will work out well."  
The Lady Inquisitor calmly stood up, stepped over to him, and slapped him hard across the face. "Did you not just see that?" She snapped, jabbing her finger in the direction of the door. "That girl is likely to come out of this even crazier than she could have been before!"  
"Worry not, my dear!" Levy said, holding his hand up to her. "She'll be quite fine, I can assure you. She has all the makings of a great member of the Commissariat. He's one of the best, I'm sure she'll flourish."  
"Or, she'll die!" The Lady Inquisitor said sharply, and began to pace along the floor.  
"I don't think that particular display of discipline warranted this sort of fear for her mortality." Levy commented.  
The Lady Inquisitor ran a hand through her long hair. "That particular instance was hardly a problem." She said. "I'm more concerned about the man himself. Did you not read the Ordo file on him? The man has executed people for so much as breathing out of term!"  
She stopped before the large, arched window to the side of the Abbess's desk which overlooked the grounds of the building, and gazed out. After a few moments, she pressed her hand against the glass pane and sighed. "I can bear with putting someone to death for a great crime, but that girl has done absolutely nothing wrong. She's done nothing to deserve this."  
Levy stepped forward. "My dear, Conrad was given the choice whether or not to accept him as teacher." He softly explained.  
"She didn't know what she was getting herself into." The Lady Inquisitor countered.  
Levy shook his head. "But she did. I told her what this would entail. She knows too-well how this can end… yet she bravely accepted this fate anyway."  
"Such foolishness…" The Lady Inquisitor lamented. "Such damned, utter foolishness. And we helped play a part in it." Levy said nothing.  
She stepped forward, closer to him. "Tobias, hold me."  
Levy complied all-too-happily, and slipped his arms around his Lady's waist. "Everything will be fine, Ammy, don't you worry…" He tenderly assured.  
"Don't even try," The Lady Inquisitor said in that gentle tone meant to profess love, which made it all the more unpleasant.  
Levy's hand, slipping lower down the backside of the Lady Inquisitor's dress, immediately recoiled, and he rested it again against her back.  
He widely grinned, and let out a heavy breath as he lovingly rubbed his head against hers. "Right."


	16. Chapter 13

**XIII**  
**SCINTILLA**  
_"Ah! The politician! Truly, there is no more criminal a man."_  
_– Commissar (NAME STRICKEN FROM RECORDS)_

As the lander flew in over the coast, Raege sat back and stared at the vid-display from the forward-oculus. The towering, jagged shape of Hive Sibellus slowly emerged on the far horizon, like a great city emerging from the polluted oceans.  
Not that the Commissar was entirely concerned with the scenery. She was still troubled with the events on Kulth, some few months ago.  
Levy had instructed Captain Millia to direct the _Ave Maria_ to leave for Landunder and hold there until further instruction arrived.  
Raege had given her own set of orders – being Sergeant Neuehoffe's friend, Yaroslava was given directions to explain what had happened to Angela; the Sergeant would have to find out the more "peculiar" details of her surgery from Dietrich, however.  
The entire situation was shaky. Raege would have preferred to explain it to Neuehoffe herself, but Levy had been insistent on leaving immediately, and Angela had not been conscious at that time. The possibility for trouble was tremendous. For the entirety of the trip to Scintilla, Raege had thought about the situation. The thought of what she might return to…  
Levy lightly tapped her shoulder. "We've arrived at Sibellus. Take a look, Madame." He said, pointing at the display. A glare from Raege prompted him to correct himself. "Er…Commissar. I'm sorry."  
Raege looked at the pict-feed on the display. Hive Sibellus, seat of governance for the entire Calixis Sector, and filled to the brim with politicians and aristocrats. Corrupt politicians and aristocrats.  
Somehow, she knew this visit would be no different from an undertaking to a battlefield.

Vanheim Dreiger tugged at the edge of his tunic. It had been a while since he had last had it pressed. He remembered how much he enjoyed wearing it, even if it had rarely ever looked quite as nice as it did as he stood waiting for the Inquisitor's shuttle to come to ground. He looked over at Rolm Freuden - Levy had ordered the ex-Kasrkin to trim up his goatee; unable to part with his wit, Freuden obeyed him word-for-word, and had trimmed it just that morning… into an aquila.  
The two laughed at one-another. Freuden looked so ridiculous with his beloved facial hair, and Dreiger looked equally laughable in his old uniform. He had done his best over the years to compensate for his pitifully thin physique, to no avail. They were even, it seemed.  
Levy's modified lander was visible first before it could be heard, easily attributable to the crowded and noisy nature of Sibellus, from the bulk of which the dock tower sprouted up.  
After a few moments of gently hovering over the landing pad, the aquila put down. Dreiger and Freuden stood at attention as the passenger bay opened up.  
First out was Inquisitor Levy. After him, was Commissar Raege. Dreiger and Freuden saluted to them.  
Levy contented himself with their orderliness. Once the lander's engines powered down, he casually gestured to them. "At ease." He commanded, and the two relaxed as servitors stepped aboard the lander and retrieved the passengers' luggage.  
When Raege stepped up to them, however, they returned to their salute.  
"Commissar, these two are going to be serving as your bodyguards during your time on Scintilla." Levy said, gesturing to the two men.  
"Rolm Freuden, Cadian Kasrkin, formerly with the defense team of Kasr Koreth." Freuden announced. Levy, who had been smiling moments before, suddenly frowned upon noticing the shape of Freuden's facial hair.  
Dreiger grinned. When Raege turned her attention to him, he forced himself back to a more neutral expression. "Vanheim Dreiger… mercenary."  
He was not particularly forthcoming on details, so Raege politely avoided pressing the issue. "At ease, the both of you." She said, and they relaxed.  
"Welcome to Scintilla." Dreiger said, holding his hand out to Raege; she grasped it, and shook it. "Staff car's waiting in the transit pool." He said, motioning to the exit off in the back of the platform.  
"Let's get going, then." Levy said, making for the door, with the others following close. "We have much to do. The Conclave will be making its hearing in a few days. We've got to get everything in order before then!"  
The group passed into the interior of the dock tower, and took a lift straight down to the transit pool; Levy was in too much of a hurry to bother checking in with the Administratum.  
A sleek, black grav-sedan sat patiently waiting for them, with a robed man standing beside it. As Levy stepped forward he bowed. The Inquisitor took his hand and kissed its backside, as though completely forgetting the other three waiting behind him.  
Levy turned back to them, specifically Raege. "Commissar, I don't believe you've met my attendant." He gestured to the man. "This, is… Mister… Bastet Zimmerman."  
Zimmerman silently bowed. Confused at Levy's display, Raege nodded to the Inquisitor's aide.  
Levy stepped aside, and opened the back door of the vehicle. "Come, come, let's get underway." He said, motioning to the others, who all quickly entered the excessively spacious passenger compartment; with everyone else in, he sat down inside and closed the door, contented to sit down towards the front, facing the others. He leaned his head back towards the driver's compartment. "The Tricorn, if you please." He said, before shutting the opening between them. The grav-sedan took off shortly after.  
"You've got quite an interesting little confrontation ahead of you." Dreiger announced as the sedan took off. "Tactician Dryd is on Scintilla. He'll be present at the hearing."  
Raege looked over at Levy. "Dryd?"  
"Tactician Tyreon Dryd is the Knights' senior-most planner of battle. He's a plain, normal human, which makes the fact that he's managed to captivate their respect rather impressive." The Inquisitor explained.  
"He's Grand Master Heront Klavier's right-hand man." Dreiger continued. "His little lapdog..."  
"And he'll be representing the Knights?" Raege asked. She was briefly distracted by a horrendous, wet, snap, like the combined cracking of bone and cartilage, which came from beside her. Raege looked over at Zimmerman, who pulled away his hood – revealing that _he_ was now _she,_ and she had grown thinner, lithe yet muscular – definitely a woman.  
Alarmed, Raege reached for her pistol, but Levy stopped her. "I apologize, Commissar. I failed to tell you of this." He hastily said. "I introduce you now to _Miss_ Bastet Zimmerman. She is an assassin of the Callidus Temple."  
Zimmerman bowed her head.  
"I see..." Raege mumbled, calmly sitting back.  
"Creepy, huh? I had a similar reaction when I first saw it myself." Freuden commented as he sat back.  
"I did too." Dreiger added. "Sorry for the scare, but it was necessary for Zimmerman to take that form."  
"The Knights tend to be rather tenacious with intelligence-gathering." Levy quickly explained. "There's no doubt in my mind that they're trying to watch me. I'd prefer they not discover Bastet's nature yet."  
"But if you think they're watching, then isn't it best that she remain in her disguise?" Raege asked. "If they saw us at the port, then there will be an obvious contradiction."  
"Perhaps," Zimmerman spoke up, shrugging, "but I felt it was proper to introduce myself. I can simply change back before we're there."  
"Anyway, yes, Dryd will no-doubt be representing the Knights." Levy said. "He's essentially their diplomatic envoy to just about every branch of the Imperium."  
"He's a prick is what he is." Dreiger grunted, and made no further remark.  
"So, can we expect anything else?" Raege asked. She watched for a moment as Zimmerman contorted about while she transformed again into the male guise she had held.  
"Oh, I imagine we can." Levy said simply, as the Tricorn became visible outside the dark-tinted windows…

The Lady Inquisitor lightly tapped the edge of her desk, having put away all other means to pass her time in anticipation of Levy's visit to her office. As she had been asked to participate in the prosecution on account of the troublesome nature of the Knights' Librarium, there was much she needed to be doing to prepare for the trial... just as much as Levy was neglecting to do.  
After a few more moments' silence, an irritated growl came from the gargantuan figure in the corner.  
"He's taking too long." The grimly-clad Marine grumbled.  
The Lady Inquisitor lightly chuckled. "Please, this is characteristic of him."  
The Marine took a heavy step forward. "But how dare he force others to wait on his account? How can you tolerate such a discourteous act?"  
The Lady Inquisitor smiled at the Marine's display. "Calm yourself."  
The red eyes of the Marine's ceremonial skull-mask glimmered with the empathic fury he felt on his Lady's behalf. As he searched for something to say in response to this, the Lady's personal cogitator chimed. Raising an eyebrow, she keyed on the office vox. "Yes?" She asked.  
"Inquisitor Levy has arrived to see you." The caller affectionately announced; it most certainly was not the usual desk-clerk...  
The Lady Inquisitor groaned. "Tobias, just get in here."  
"Of course, dear." Levy chirped. A few moments after, a knock came from the doors of the Lady's office.  
"Come in!" The Lady impatiently shouted.  
Levy crashed open the door, smiling like an idiot. "Good morning to you, Milady! And greetings, honored Brother Moerchen!" He happily chirped.  
"Chaplain Moerchen." The Space Marine snarled.  
"Ah, yes, my apologies." Levy unconcernedly responded.  
"Well? Where is the Commissar?"  
"Oh, she's just waiting out in the hall." Levy answered, pointing back at the door with his thumb. "Shall I call her in now?"  
The Lady's face twisted into a satire of a smile. "That would be splendid," she said, and her expression quickly turned foul again, "especially since we're here to talk to her!"  
Levy simply grinned at this. "Of course." He said, and went back into the hall.  
Raege, Zimmerman, Freuden and Dreiger patiently stood waiting a few meters from the door. "Come, come in!" Levy beckoned, and the four of them stepped forward; Levy put up a hand at this. "Ap-bup. Only Raege and Zimmerman may enter Milady's office."  
"Just let them all in!" The Lady Inquisitor shouted, causing Levy to flinch.  
"Very well, come in, all of you." He said, and slipped back inside.  
When Raege and her bodyguards entered, the three of them shared an equally surprised reaction to the sight of Moerchen, standing there beside the Lady Inquisitor's desk.  
The Lady Inquisitor grinned, and laughed. "Relax yourselves. This is Chaplain Moerchen of the Death Spirits."  
The Chaplain bowed his helmet.  
"He's my guardian." The Lady Inquisitor added. "Now, come in, Raege, come in. It's been quite a while."  
Assured, Raege stepped forward while the two former servicemen cautiously followed with an extended space between them and the Commissar. The Lady Inquisitor sighed at this; returning to business, she pulled out a file from her desk. "You see this? This is the full briefing on your encounters with the Knights Teutonic. Everything mentioned about interactions between your party and them is in here, be it for better or worse. All of it is, of course, for worse."  
Moerchen let out a low grunt, apparently finding the comment less than amusing. "The Knights have a very... strained relationship with other Astartes Chapters. They are part of a growing plague of malcontents, in that they do not see the protection of common men as their duty. My Chapter is among those who have denounced their lot in the past." He explained.  
"They also aren't on very fine terms with the Inquisition, either." Levy said. "This I've already explained at some depth, but you don't understand the full extent of it."  
The Lady took another file from the top of her desk. "About three years ago, on Fenksworld, a rampant string of gruesome murders, which could only have been undertaken by an incredibly well-armed individual, set Inquisitor Sorias Thurk on the trail of Knights Teutonic Terminator-Lord Petarek." She said, reading aloud. "Petarek had been making his own investigation of a supposed genstealer cult, and quickly caught on that the Inquisitor was trailing him. This led to a violent clash, even in spite of the apparent fact that Petarek knew that Thurk was an Inquisitor." She put down that report, and looked up at Raege. "Thurk lost an arm and suffered severe scarring from that fight, and Petarek got away from punishment by accusing him of radicalism. That was proven false, but Petarek was still pardoned for his 'mistake.'"  
Levy stepped over, and slipped another report from the Lady Inquisitor's desk. "Ah, I found this one fascinating. About a year and a half ago, old records on Chapter listings were found in the Black Templars bastion on Cloister. Shortly thereafter, the number of psykers present, Astropaths, mostly, began to complain of severe headaches and horrific nightmares. A few months after the discovery of the documents, just days before an Administratum vessel was due to arrive and copy down the records for archival, the bastion experienced a horrendous attack which heavily depopulated it. Among the victims was the full count of psykers present in the bastion." He looked over at Raege, then continued. "The records were discovered destroyed, and no witnesses had survived the assault. A follow-up investigation by Inquisitor Rehmus Toril found that, while most of the surveillance equipment had been destroyed, a vid remained which depicted an Astartes Terminator rampaging through the bastion, and clearly making use of psychic powers. The presence of the Knights' Grand Cross on his pauldron identified him as Master Lexicanum Herick. When confronted with this, the Knights simply explained that Herick was there on search for a trader who had stolen something of value to the Knights."  
"There's always been a question of their origins." The Lady Inquisitor explained. "And, Herick's the main reason I'm on this case."  
"Quite. He is very much involved with our recent troubles, too." Levy said.  
"What do you mean?" Raege asked.  
"Tell me, Raege, did you experience any... bad dreams, nightmares, dare I say, before you were attacked on Ganf Magna?" The Lady Inquisitor leaned forward as she spoke. Raege nodded. "I thought as much. You see, Herick enjoys clairvoyance and telepathy. He's adept at debilitating enemies, at breaking one's will. I have no doubt he was used to find you out."  
"And we suspect he went through me to do so." Levy said, tapping his cane against the floor.  
"But why not just go directly to me?" Raege asked.  
"Why he wouldn't is beyond me, but the physicians could find no reason for Levy's recent heart attack." The Lady Inquisitor said. "His brain activity was also incredibly bizarre for a person who had just suffered heart failure. It's quite likely Herick was responsible for that."  
"Now what of the people who attacked me?" Raege asked, sitting down in a chair beside the Lady's desk.  
"TASO." Levy simply answered.  
"What?"  
"The Teutonic Auxiliary Special Operations regiments." Dreiger explained, stepping forward. "They're the elite of the Teutonic Auxiliary, the Guard regiments which originate from the Teutonic realm."  
"They are frequently deployed as infiltrators. Good ones, too. Most of the time we only find out they're involved in an operation through agents within the Auxiliary Command." The Lady explained.  
"Apparently, the team sent for you was inexperienced. That's the only thing we can gather." Levy said.  
"They don't often make mistakes like those they made with you. No offense." The Lady Inquisitor mentioned.  
"Not that your superior abilities had nothing to do with it." Levy quickly added.  
The Lady Inquisitor put all of the papers aside, and stood up. "Now, as for the trial itself, your testimony will be able to provide considerable leverage to us, in addition to that which we already hold. Is there anything, aside from the info you added to your report, that you're going to put in your testimony?"  
Raege shook her head.  
"Very well." The Lady Inquisitor looked up at Dreiger and Freuden. "Could the two of you step out for a few minutes?"  
The two bodyguards nodded, and exited.  
Levy sat down across from Raege. "Now, Conrad... there is one other matter which I wished to speak to you about..." He looked over at the Lady Inquisitor. "Shall we show her?"  
The Lady Inquisitor nodded, and took out her office's control wand. She pressed one of the runes, and the lights dimmed; the large window behind her desk, which had provided the room with much luminescence, was covered over by a lowering opaque panel. A pict projector lowered from the ceiling, and the Lady Inquisitor turned to watch the image that came up. A passcode prompt came up on the screen, which was quickly cleared with a few more clicks on the control wand.  
The screen flashed a brief message of "Welcome, Inquisitor," before blackening. A vid soon began to play, depicting an Inquisitorial Storm Trooper being slain by a giant figure; the entire video seemed to be horrendous quality, and the giant had been obscured, but to Raege it looked like a Space Marine.  
A single, raspy word spoken by the Marine struck Raege as odd:  
Kranenstaz.  
The Lady Inquisitor turned the lights back on, and Raege looked over at Levy. "I assume that was the reason you sent me to Kranenstaz?"  
Levy slowly nodded. "Why, yes it was."  
"Explain this."  
"I suppose I have an obligation to tell you." Levy stood up once again. "That vid is quite old. It was recorded from a Storm Trooper whose team had been dispatched to the world of Altyracivus to investigate a distress signal from a settlement there... it's a rather infamous disaster in the course of the Inquisition's history, right up there with the corruption of Mara. Because the entire team was destroyed without a trace, the vids were taken from the records of the team's mothership. The rest of the logs indicate significant warp activity, daemonic manifestation, and a few rare extra shots of that ominous figure we saw. I have no doubt in my mind that was a renegade Space Marine."  
"Do you think it was the Knights?" Raege asked.  
"The Knights? Oh, by the Throne, no. Selfish as they may be, they are not warp-tainted. This individual's identity has proven quite elusive. Much of the Inquisition has given up on the investigation, seeing as the probing of Kranenstaz over the decades following this incident yielded nothing."  
"So why did you send me there?"  
"Because I felt I was missing something. And, in fact, I was."  
Raege narrowed her eyes at this.  
"You see, your investigation did indeed turn up a lead. And that lead took me to a certain cult which I've recently traced here on Scintilla. The, ah, 'Bells of Violence,' as they call themselves."  
"Naturally, this incident very much interested me as well." The Lady Inquisitor explained.  
Levy nodded. "Alas, I cannot take all the credit for tracking this cult down." He gestured to the Lady. "Milady has been of much assistance to me in finding them."  
"In more ways than you can imagine, Conrad." The Lady Inquisitor assured.  
"I'll be needing you to investigate this, as soon as the trial is done. I would have let you come with the rest of your unit, but we need to be inconspicuous. Bringing you here for the trial was the best way to get you to Scintilla without rousing suspicions."  
Levy stepped over, and opened the office door again. "Gentlemen, come in again, please." Freuden and Dreiger followed Levy as he turned back into the office. "You two will be watching over the Commissar's suite tonight." He said to them, then turned to Raege. "The Dubreski Merchant-Nobilite family recently 'vacated' one of their residential suites near the Tricorn. I've arranged for it to be made yours. By now, I imagine your luggage has been delivered."  
Raege nodded. "Thank you, then."  
"Dreiger, Freuden, if you would please escort her there?" Levy said, and then turned to Zimmerman. "I'd like you to stay with her for the remainder of her time on Scintilla as well, Bastet."  
The Callidus acknowledged this with a bow.  
"Excellent. Now, run along, children." Levy teasingly said, shooing them off.  
When they left, Levy turned back to the Lady Inquisitor, grinned widely, and leaned forward against her desk. "Now, Ammy, perhaps you could send away Chaplain Moerchen? I'd love to speak with you in private..."  
For a moment, the Lady Inquisitor played along with this. She leaned towards Levy, bearing an expression of interest, before raising her hand and grabbing him by the tip of his nose. "Don't even go there, Tobias." She growled, before letting him go.  
Defeated, Levy stepped back, clutching his nose. He slowly took his hand away from it, and smiled back at her, mindful of the grim stare Moerchen was giving him. "Very well, Milady..." He said, as cheerful as ever. "Very well."

On the day of the trial, Levy arrived at the waiting room of the allotted hearing chamber, with Raege and her guardians tailing him. Shortly after his entrance, a distressed colleague, Inquisitor Aronus of the Ordo Xenos, entered from the hearing chamber; initially surprised at Levy's presence, Aronus reaffirmed himself as he rushed to Levy's side. "You're late!" He hissed.  
"Why, this isn't at all like you, Aronus." Levy casually commented. "Has something happened?"  
"Something most certainly has happened!" Aronus snapped. "Did you not hear?"  
Levy paused for a moment, then shook his head, childishly grinning.  
"An Astartes battle barge appeared just beyond the planetary orbit a few hours ago! It plowed straight through several merchant vessels as it came into orbit!"  
"A battle barge?" Levy raised his brow at this. "This reeks of Klavier."  
"Oh yes. He's most definitely present." Aronus said. "Sector Governor Hax has had him barred from coming planet-side for fear of him doing damage to Sibellus, and a squadron of Navy frigates are watching the Battle Barge on a hair trigger."  
Levy sounded a concerned grunt at this point. "That was most definitely not a good idea."  
"Indeed." Aronus said, turning away from Levy and motioning for him. "Come, we must get inside."

By the time the group had taken their seats upon the adjudication platform, the chamber was bustling with activity. Raege, sitting beside the Lady Inquisitor with Moerchen shadowing them both, looked over the number of the gathered Inquisitors – gray-haired nobles, disfigured terrors, and augmented gentlemen mixed among the various other summoned Conclave members.  
As he sat down, Levy turned to the individual beside him, Aronus' Interrogator Inotin Varm. The two shook hands briefly, and looked out on the crowd.  
"You're just in time." Varm jokingly told him. "We were about to start without you. The Tactician will be entering in a moment."  
"Ah, good." Levy said, half-interested as he watched his superiors settle in.  
"They apparently detained him on his arrival to Scintilla."  
"What's this?" Levy looked over at Varm, his smile growing wider.  
"Well, standard procedure is that the accused parties must be bound during a trial," Varm explained, "and since Dryd is a member of the accused party, Inquisitor Freia and a team of Arbites arrested him on arrival."  
Levy broke into laughter at this, along with Varm.  
The Lady Inquisitor nudged Raege, and leaned towards her. "Look." she said as she pointed up at the crowd in the gallery, aiming her finger towards a particularly old-looking man, remarkable for the amount of facial hair he maintained, sitting among the middle rows. He leaned forward against his cane, intently watching those down on the adjudication platform - from how he kept his gaze on Raege, he was evidently aware that they were talking about him.  
"That's Inquisitor Ahmazzi, he's one of my seniors. And, he's in the Tyrantine Cabal." The Lady Inquisitor explained, and then she turned directed Raege's attention to another, far more conspicuous Inquisitor standing in the far back; at that distance, his features were hardly distinguishable, save for the colossal, ornate suit of power armor which he had donned. "That's Inquisitor Rykehuss of the Ordo Hereticus, he's in the Cabal too." the Lady pointed off some distance from Rykehuss, off at a shabby-looking man who leaned against the guide rails separating the trial pit from the audience; Raege could see he wore a filter mask across the lower part of his face, while he attempted to veil the rest of it with his archetypical wide-brimmed Witch Hunter hat, which he had tipped forwards in accordance with some haphazard fashion. "And there, that's Inquisitor Vownus Kaede, also with the Ordo Hereticus, and also with the Tyrantine Cabal. He and Rykehuss hate each-other, they would never go anywhere near one-another unless told to!"  
"Is there something odd about them all being here?" Raege asked.  
"There most certainly is!" The Lady Inquisitor hissed. "The Cabal usually is more interested in their own ghost-chasing. Those star gazers are almost never present at major gatherings, especially not this selection of their members. Ahmazzi's a real old miser, and let me tell you, he hates proceedings. Rykehuss doesn't have the patience for it, neither does Kaede, not to mention those two would rather be bickering between themselves! They can only be here on order from the Cabal's head, Inquisitor Zerbe."  
"Then the Cabal has taken interest in this trial?"  
The Lady Inquisitor shrugged. "I don't see why, but it looks like it."  
Raege turned her attention to the others at the prosecution table: Aside from Aronus and Varm, there was another Inquisitor present, one far-older in his appearance. He had a certain, unpleasant air about him.  
The Lady Inquisitor took notice of her curiosity. "That's Inquisitor Direntus. Don't stare. He's in charge of the hearing."  
Raege looked away from him, and turned her head back to the doors at the far end of the trial pit; slowly, they began to open, and the whole room grew hushed. Followed by a pair of the Tricorn's guards, in stepped an man dressed in an elegant, white tunic of the style enjoyed by military commanders; across his chest were pinned various medals displaying his strategic mastery, including a particular badge, which displayed a black cross set on a white circle.  
Tyreon Dryd looked dignified, for a fettered man. He held a haughty expression on his gaunt face, which was lightly bruised - from his detainment, Raege mused.  
Direntus stood from his seat, and Dryd kneeled in ceremony. "Tactician Tyreon Dryd." Direntus greeted him, in a commanding, deep voice. "You have come a long way since your origins on Kuluth."  
Raege narrowed her eyes at that detail. Kuluth?  
"My planet of origin should make no matter." Dryd calmly, loudly spoke. He held up his bound wrists. "I cannot escape. Are these shackles really necessary?"  
Direntus motioned, and the guards removed the bindings on Dryd's hands. "Ah, but I think it matters all the more. You forget where you are from, judging by your willingness to do in your planet's kin." He motioned to Raege at this point.  
Dryd, still bearing his arrogant expression, turned to Raege. "I cannot call this woman my kin."  
Raege did not respond to this.  
Dryd lifted a finger to her. "She is a vile heretic, and I shall-"  
Direntus raised his hand, and Dryd grew silent. "Commissar Raege is not the one on trial here."  
"But she is the reason I am here today, brought in as a prisoner, not even knowing of the charges against me and my-"  
"The charges would have been made known immediately had you not raised an unplaced accusation against the Commissar." The Lady Inquisitor harshly spoke.  
"Then, may I ask, what are they?"  
As Direntus took his seat again, Aronus rose, bearing a scroll. "The Knights Teutonic, Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes, are charged with conspiracy to kill agents of His Holy Ordos, with assault against servants of the Imperium at-large, and with assault against soldiers of His great Imperial Guard." He read.  
Raege watched as a servant hastily arrived at Direntus' side, and whispered something to him; the senior Inquisitor dismissed him, and the servant quickly scurried out of the chamber.  
"I plead, on behalf of the whole of the Knight-Order, not guilty to all listed charges." Dryd calmly said. This created a light murmur amongst the spectators.  
Varm stood up. "The prosecution would like to commence by presenting its witness, a recent victim of the spiteful machinations of the Knight-Order, Commissar Conrad Raege, Agent of Inquisitor Tobias Levy of the Ordo Xenos."  
Levy nodded to Raege, who slowly stood up; Varm turned to her, and held motioned to her with his hand. " The Commissar was recently attacked, not once, but twice, by assailants loyal to the Knights Teutonic." He stepped aside. "Commissar, please, describe to the court your first encounter with the Knights, on the shrine world of Kranenstaz."  
Raege cleared her throat, and placed her hands behind her back. "I was sent to Kranenstaz in order to investigate the reasons for the eldar's presence on that world. They have, recently, proven very persistent in harassing the population."  
Neither Varm nor Raege noticed as a group of adepts carted in a large projection machine; when it was placed beside Dryd, however, they were immediately made aware of it.  
"Erm... what is this?" Varm asked, stepping forward now.  
An adept turned the projector on, and after a few moments of loudly warming up, it began to cast an image - a shaky one at first, blurry, until it became apparent that it displayed a heavily-ornate Space Marine in full armor.  
Direntus stood from his seat. "Klavier."  
The Grand Master folded his arms across his cloth-covered breastplate. "Direntus." He deadpanned in a low pitch. "I apologize for not being able to attend in-person. However, it seems I have been banned from setting foot upon your rock."  
"That disbarment was, perhaps, unnecessary, but was undertaken with sincere concern for you. We, all of us, fear that your presence would rouse attacks from your enemies here on Scintilla." Direntus countered.  
"Oh my. Then, Scintilla's populace does not appreciate the work my Chapter has done for its gluttonous numbers?" Klavier stung. "The work which has been paused by this waste of time?"  
Moerchen stepped forward. "This hearing is but the first measure to bring some realization to your Chapter of the dangerous acts it has undertaken."  
Klavier turned his attention to the Chaplain. "Ah, what's this? Is that... Moerchen? How low you have dropped, even for a Chaplain of such a pitiable band as yours."  
"Enough!" Direntus shouted, and the two ceased. "Grand Master, I beg your pardon, but for what reason are you here? Dryd has already shown himself willing to represent your Chapter, you need not concern yourself."  
"Oh, but I know things Dryd knows not. My Chapter has conducted its own investigations into the matter which first brought this trial about..." He unfolded his arms. "Tell me, has the Commissar spoken yet regarding her presence on Kranenstaz?"  
"She was in the midst of beginning to speak about it, yes." Direntus cautiously answered.  
"Has she spoken about why?" Klavier scathingly asked. When he received no response, he lightly grinned for a moment. "Then, she has not mentioned how she was consorting with the foul eldar!"  
This created a loud ruckus among the spectators.  
"Silence!" Direntus shouted, holding his hands up. "Klavier! This trial is held to determine the guilt or innocence of your Chapter, not that of the Commissar!"  
"Be still, and I shall explain!" Klavier bellowed. "Brother-Captain Rassal of my Order has been hunting the eldar of the Craftworld Sar-Cyrs for a great while. He tracked one of their decadent warp-wielders to Kranenstaz, and in his following of the still-fresh trail, discovered the Commissar's lot, in the same city which no-doubt hid the eldar!"  
"But that city was empty!" Raege objected.  
"Lies, the whole lot of it!" Klavier said, waving his hand as though swatting some insect. "And the damage done by your warriors managed to buy the xenos time to escape. There is little doubt you were protecting them!"  
"And how do you know that?" Interrogator Varm spoke up. "I'm sorry to say, but your Chapter has a history of attacking soldiers for little reason."  
"Oh, I assure you, this was with reason, good reason." Klavier explained.  
The hologram looked down at Dryd, who seemed much further-encouraged by his Grand Master's intangible presence.  
"Following the incident at Kranenstaz, I commenced an investigation into the matter. Not knowing that the Commissar was working with the Inquistion, I suspected initially she had been enthralled to the eldar and was leading xenophiles to defend them. This seemed to be reinforced when, in the course of attempting to locate her, the diviners tasked with uncovering her location were met by resistance from a third party in the warp... which we have identified as the eldar."  
"But you still discovered her location." Levy commented.  
"Oh yes, I assure you, the forces of the Order's Librarium are potent indeed. Not even the eldar could best them forever, and they eventually identified Raege's movements and direction." Dryd explained.  
"But to do that, you used me... after you received my letter of apology for Kranenstaz." Levy countered.  
"Indeed, it is thanks to that letter that we learned the Commissar was working with His Ordos, but it came too late to call off the planned attack at Ganf Magna, where the Commissar was to be detained and brought to the Realm for interrogation." Dryd responded.  
"But you sent your psykers against me! I suffered a failure of my heart due to their invasions!" Levy objected.  
"Inquisitor, I highly recommend you relax some more. A man who is so work-focused as you is prone to heart-attacks." Klavier said in a tone mocking sympathy. "But please, do not accuse my soldiers of attacking a member of the Holy Inquisition."  
"But there is no evidence that any part of your accusation is true!"  
"Likewise," Klavier growled, "there has not been a shred of evidence that should even be skewed as damaging to the Knight-Order. This is a waste Direntus, please, call off this charade so that Dryd and I may return to our duties."  
Direntus slid back into his seat, and sighed. "I do not see how any of the Prosecution's evidence presented thus-far can, in this light, prove the guilt of the Knight-Order, and therefore I name them not-guilty."  
This news produced a roar of protest from the crowd, one which Direntus could not help to silence.  
Klavier smirked. "If you'll excuse me..." He said, and the hologram disappeared.  
As the Inquisitors furiously argued with one-another, Raege leaned her head back, incredibly exhausted from the short exchange.  
The Lady Inquisitor placed a hand on the Commissar's shoulder. "Don't worry, this isn't the end of it."  
Raege nodded. "I know."


	17. Chapter 14

**XIV**  
**SIBELLAN INTRIGUE**  
_"Make no mistake. In spite of the heavy Inquisitorial presence, in spite of the heavy Ecclesiarchial presence, in spite of the heavy Imperial presence altogether, the Calixis Sector's capital is probably the most corrupt place in its whole."_  
_– Inquisitor Irias Sark, speaking to his students._

One last stream of air bubbles rose to the top of the water canister; as he had no intention of suffocating his prisoner, Interrogator Varm finally pulled her head out of it.  
The Commissar spat out water, along with wet hair which had caught on her lips. She gasped for air as she leaned forward, her ribcage pressing against the table; she was far too-exhausted to bring herself back to a straight posture.  
"This will only get worse." Varm warned. "Just confess."  
Panting, Raege gave him a hard stare.  
Varm shook his head in disappointment. "So be it." He said, and stepped over to the open excruciator kit on the table. From the myriad objects of torture, he produced a small, bulbous and pointed item with a screw-handle; to demonstrate to Raege, he twisted the handle inwards, and the bulb split into three different pieces, then clasped shut again as he reversed his hand movements.  
"What have you conspired to do with the Eldar?" He asked, for the third time in the last five minutes. The response was the same as the last two times:  
"Nothing." Raege wheezed.  
As Varm stepped forward, brandishing the agonizing device, the cell door swung open, and the Interrogator immediately ceased in his advance; Inquisitor Aronus entered, and his student stood at attention.  
"I think you've done quite enough." The Inquisitor stated.  
"I haven't done anything yet." Varm protested. "She has not received sufficient pressure. I also suspect she might have a mental block—"  
Aronus held up his hand, silencing the Interrogator. "That was not just a comment, child. Lord Inquisitor Direntus has ordered all charges be dropped, and requests to see her."  
Varm relented. He put the torture device down on the table, and undid Raege's bindings. "Up." He lightly commanded, and the Commissar wearily obeyed, letting him guide her out with a series of light pushes against her back.

"Are you alright?"  
Levy's attention snapped back to Direntus; realizing he was frowning, he feigned a smile. "Oh, yes, quite." He said, as merrily as he could.  
"I apologize once more." Direntus said. "Had you only told me before the trial, then this would not have-"  
"I'm afraid that, at this point, I am not the one you should be apologizing to."  
The Lord Inquisitor's cogitator chimed, and he pressed a rune on its surface. "Go ahead."  
"Varm is here with the Commissar."  
"Let the Commissar in now." Direntus responded. He looked over to Levy as he took his finger from the keyboard. "What timing."  
The door opened, and Raege, stripped of her coat and cap, entered. She had regained enough of her composure to properly greet the two Inquisitors.  
"Raege." Direntus said, standing up from his seat, just as Levy did so too. He brushed back the curled locks of his wig, and stepped out from behind his desk. He glanced over at Levy, who gave him an uncharacteristically sober stare; he then looked back at Raege. "I… apologize for the mistake. Your master just explained to me what it was you really went to Kranenstaz for. Had I known of that earlier, I would not have levied the suspicions I put to you."  
The Commissar said nothing, opting instead to slowly nod.  
"That aside, Levy came here to also obtain some details I told him I would look into, details relevant to your investigation." Direntus took a file from his desk, and tossed it into Levy's hands. "You are going after a cult, yes?"  
"Yes," Levy spoke up as he opened the folder, "the Bells of Violence."  
"Yes. They're rather obscure among Inquisitors, though cells going by that name, perhaps part of a collective, have been caught for centuries. They aren't generally regarded as a significant threat."  
"What does any of that have to do with Kranenstaz, might I ask?" Raege deadpanned.  
"It turns out the phonetic arrangement of the name 'Kranenstaz,' is the same as the word for the phrase 'time for violence' in a particular dialect of the eldar language." Levy explained. "The name of the 'Bells of Violence' is a rather cute reference to this. They intend to 'ring in the time for violence.'"  
Raege crossed her arms. "So, how do I track them down?"  
Direntus gestured to the file Levy held. "I gathered some information on suspected affiliates to the Bells. As it so-happens, the name of Toras Ilax, one of the brats of House Ilax here on Scintilla, was dropped during the interrogation of a Bells cultist. This is recent information, so no action has been taken on this quite yet. There have been no movements in House Ilax, so they are clearly not aware yet of this development."  
"So, what do you need me to do?"  
"We need to interrogate him. We need to find out where the Bells are operating out of here on Scintilla." Levy spoke up as he closed the report. "The problem there, is that the Bells of Violence are extremely cautious. The cultist mentioned in this file, the one who leaked Toras's name? He was caught on Barsapine. As soon as he was brought in, the cult's holdings completely vanished from that planet."  
Direntus nodded. "To immediately arrest Toras would alert them instantly. We need to create a situation in which we can interrogate him without setting off the Bells."  
"Which brings us to House Ilax…" Levy stood up with a light grunt. "They are holding a social party in celebration of their recent breakthrough in dealings with the Skaelen-Har Hegemony. My good friend the Lady Inquisitor was invited to attend. You will be going as well."  
"Is the plan to kidnap Toras there?"  
Levy nodded. "It has to be done cautiously, though, or the Bells will know we pulled it off."  
"Then how are we to do that?"  
Levy smiled. "I'll leave that to your discretion."  
Raege glared at him, to the effect that Levy felt the need to tug on his collar.  
"A car is waiting for you out front. It will take you back to your suite. The Lady Inquisitor will be paying a visit to you in a few hours' time, so be sure to give her a warm welcome."  
Raege saluted, and turned to leave.  
"Ah, and Raege," Levy stood up, "do be careful. This world's customs are… dangerous."  
Raege did not even break stride as he spoke. "I'll be careful." She casually said as she left.

As Raege stepped into the courtyard of the Tricorn, she spotted Dreiger waiting by a grav-sedan before he began calling out and signaling to her.  
As the Commissar neared him, Dreiger saluted her, but Raege waved him off. "Greetings, Commissar." He said with a meek smile. "You ready to head back to your quarters?"  
Raege looked up at him. "Not that I would call them that, but yes." She said, and reached for the handle on the side door of the sedan; before she could grasp it, Dreiger shot his hand out, and hastily opened it for her. Staring at him as though with suspicion, Raege entered the sedan and sat down; he closed the door for her, venting a heavy breath as he took to the front passenger seat.  
Freuden sat in the back across from the Commissar, and next to him was a hooded figure, who Raege could only assume was Zimmerman in disguise. The two of them acknowledged Raege with bows of their heads.  
Dreiger slid open the front divider and peered into the back. "You alright, Sir?"  
"Yes."  
"That should have been Dryd in torture. Not you." Dreiger said, with a sympathetic anger. As useless as such words were, the Commissar appreciated them in her exhausted state.  
"Disgusting." Freuden commented; Zimmerman nodded at this.  
"Nevermind that." Raege said. "We need to get back to the suite."  
Dreiger nodded, and gave the order to the driver; a few seconds later, the sedan lurched, and took off.

As Raege pulled open the front door of her suite, she hesitated at the sound of people talking within. The Lady Inquisitor and her retinue, from the sound of the voices.  
"I thought she would be a few hours still." Raege hissed, looking back at her guards.  
Dreiger shrugged. "She comes when she pleases."  
Raege pushed open the door completely, and found the Lady Inquisitor chatting with Chaplain Moerchen, and a Tech-Priest. There were several unfamiliar boxes present as well - clearly the Lady had brought them up.  
The Lady Inquisitor turned her head at Raege's entrance, and smiled. "Ah! Commissar! I'm glad you're alright."  
Raege grunted.  
"I swear, I'm going to see to it that there's a censure against the Knights."  
"That will surely only-"  
"And Direntus! That oaf!" The Lady Inquisitor jabbed a finger into the air. "That was revolting! He's a sympathizer with those brutes! In and of itself that ought to be criminal!"  
"Forgive my Lady Inquisitor," the Tech-Priest spoke up, "but she's frequently frustrated by the more bureaucratic aspects of the Ordos."  
"'Frustrated' is an understatement, Max." The Lady Inquisitor said, crossing her arms. Moerchen remained silent amidst all this. "Ah, yes. Commissar, I don't think you've met my associate here?" The Lady gestured to the Tech-Priest, who bowed before Raege.  
"Magos Maddox Lamortes. At your humble service, as an extension of my Lady Inquisitor." He said, standing up again. Stepping over to Raege, he took a data-slate from his robes, and handed it to her. "I believe you'll want that."  
"What is it?" The Commissar asked.  
"The schematics of Ilax Tower." Lamortes answered, turning to the Lady Inquisitor's crates. "My Lady has a plan, you see, to capture Toras Ilax."  
"Tell me, Raege, do you know how we settle disputes in Sibellus?" The Lady Inquisitor asked; when Raege shrugged, she grinned, and placed her hands on her hips. "We duel. Often times, to the death. It's a brutal, violent practice. Every insult can be responded to by a challenge for a duel, of any terms. It makes for a splendid means of making social progress."  
"Killing people to gain their position." Raege muttered.  
The Lady Inquisitor nodded. "That's right. A lot of people I've dealt with did that to reach their status. The Administratum turns a blind eye to such contests, so it isn't seen as murder. Often times people bet entire trade companies with their lives in duels, hoping to claw at power from others."  
"But what's this plan of yours?" Raege asked, and looked at the assortment of boxes. "And... why all the containers?"  
"Well, these cases contain several of my older dresses." The Commissar's eyes grew wide at this implication. "We need to get you some proper clothes for this party-"  
"No." Raege quickly snapped. "I'm not wearing one of those."  
The Lady Inquisitor mocked a hurt expression upon her face. "Why not?"  
"There's no functionality. They look ridiculous."  
At this point, the Lady Inquisitor was laughing. "I'm sorry, dear, but this is the capital of the Calixis Sector. Functionality is the last thing in mind regarding court fashion, and they won't let you in wearing your current, functional clothing." She gestured to the Commissar's simple, gray uniform.  
Raege groaned in response.  
"Anyway, Toras Ilax is a renowned hothead." The Lady explained. "Simply tipping your hat to him the wrong angle will set him off. See where I'm going here, Commissar?"  
Recovering from her displeasure, Raege uneasily nodded. "You... want me to duel him."  
The Lady Inquisitor nodded. "I know the situation. I know the stakes. I want you to give him a serious injury, which requires he be hospitalized."  
"House Ilax recently hired on a new nurse for their personal medical staff. She is young and unfamiliar with work within a non-hospice workplace." Lamortes spoke up. "Sorry. I'm getting ahead of myself. You see, House Ilax has an entire medicae ward to themselves. Normally, they would be able to house and tend to their critically-injured son, right in a room where he is constantly under their security surveillance... but, let's say that damned new nurse, clumsy as she is, made a terrible mistake? Something like, oh, contaminating the whole ward by spilling some high-grade cleansing agents?"  
"Is this nurse on our payroll?" Raege asked.  
Lamortes pointed back to Zimmerman, who was leaning against one of the support pillars by the main entrance. "She can be, very soon."  
The Callidus, knowing what he was intending, nodded. "I could easily kill the nurse with the cleansing agent." She commented. "Then, while you're dueling Toras, Commissar, I could create the spill and strategically place the nurse's body so that it looks like she caused it."  
"Brilliant!" The Lady Inquisitor cheerily said. "It's as if you'd known the details hours ahead of time."  
"My Lady, I'm an assassin." Zimmerman deadpanned. "I need to be able to plan quickly."  
The Lady grunted as she opened up one of the dress cases. "Now, Raege..." She grinned back at the Commissar, revealing an outlandishly decorative burgundy dress.  
"Oh, please, no."  
"Come on, come on! At least look at them!"  
Moerchen sighed.

Bastet Zimmerman, Assassin of the Callidus Temple, pulled herself over the ledge of the roof, right into a section of the residence where a maintenance hatch had been added, according to the schematics. She looked around with her synskin mask's preysenses - from the looks of things, between the numerous wing-rats roosting and the build-up of filth, the roof had not been touched for a long while. This suggested a possibility that the maintenance hatch had fallen into disuse – and this simplified the Callidus' efforts.  
She quickly found the locked plate-hatch, built into a slanted block jutting from the otherwise flat roof. The security mechanism was a rusted pin-lock - exactly as the blueprints had stated. Zimmerman gently undid the bolt, picking out the sounds of each tumbler falling into place over the backdrop of Sibellan night-life, until the entire lock sprung open, granting her access. She was surprised to find that her breach had not activated some security system; as she opened the latch, she was further surprised to find there was no security.  
_How inept,_ she thought, and slipped into the maintenance tunnel, soundlessly closing the hatch above her. A brief test of the steps on the ladder which ran down one side of the shaft found that they were made of heavily corroded iron; unwilling to risk damaging it, Zimmerman pressed her hands and feet against the walls, and scaled downwards.  
She stopped near the bottom, as she came upon a ventilation duct - the cover was hinged, rather than screwed on, likely for convenience; as Zimmerman could hear people talking beyond the door at the base of the shaft, this would be her way in. The fact that it was too cramped for anyone besides a small child posed little of an issue to her.  
She could hear the crackle of her shape-shifting as she took hold of the duct cover with a hand which grew thinner and thinner as it grasped, sliding the cover open; her upper torso became stretched, and she slipped into the duct with movements not unlike those of a snake, carefully slipping her legs in thereafter.  
The guards in the hall, curious to the noise, unlocked the door and looked within to find the maintenance shaft devoid of life, while Zimmerman silently crawled along towards the medicae ward...

"How do you feel?" The Lady Inquisitor asked, smiling aside at the doorkeeper, and the congregation of nobles by the door.  
"Absurd." Raege grumbled, sullenly plodding along behind the Lady, holding several of the numerous folds in her oversized skirt. "Lady DaFien." She sourly added.  
"Now now, Sergeant Lotte," the Lady Inquisitor teased, spinning around to face the Commissar, "I'm afraid we cannot have you coming to a festive event in carapace armor."  
As the Lady Inquisitor turned again to greet the host by the entrance of the ballroom, Raege scowled.  
Toras Ilax stood in a slim outfit which closely mimicked the ceremonial dress of a general. That his attire was considered welcome in court fashion, whereas an actual military uniform was not, irritated Raege. "Milady DaFien." Toras softly said in greeting, kneeling before the Lady Inquisitor. He took her hand in his, and pressed his lips against it; she smiled down at him as he rose up again. "I am honored that you are in attendance to celebrate my family's conquest of the industrial realm. Honestly, I must say, such a gathering is not proper for a woman of your stature."  
The Lady Inquisitor gave a childish giggle. "You are too modest, Lord Ilax."  
The nobleman's attention turned to the Commissar. "And this is your... companion? I was aware you had extraordinary tastes, but..."  
In her state of heightened agitation, Raege fought the urge to punch him.  
"My bodyguard." The Lady Inquisitor announced. "Sergeant Hildegard Lotte."  
Reluctantly, Raege curtsied before the Ilax scion. "I am honored." She said.  
Toras grinned, and looked again to the Lady Inquisitor. "I beg you, pardon me, Milady, but I must tend to other things. Please," he gestured into the ballroom, "partake of some drink, some appetizer, and be social!"  
The Lady Inquisitor bowed her head; as Toras stepped away she looked into the great chamber. She stepped in, with Raege following close beside her. "Fine company." The Lady Inquisitor commented. "I recognize a few peers here. I know Inquisitor Charelman is here somewhere, at least."  
"I'm afraid I don't know who he is, my Lady." Raege whispered back.  
The Lady Inquisitor paused in her stride for a moment, nearly causing Raege to trip. "Our dear friends are here..." The Lady whispered back to the Commissar.  
"Charelman?"  
"No, Tactician Dryd."

"Take a look at what just dragged itself off Phyrr."  
"Hm?" Tyreon Dryd, partaking of a cocktail, glanced at Colonel Spiridon, and then at the entrance. "Commissar Raege..." He grimly declared to the Colonel, downing the rest of his drink. "And the Lady Inquisitor. What a jovial surprise."  
A well-dressed servitor approached them, with a plate of amasec glasses attached to its arm. Dryd placed his glass upon it, and took another down, then promptly shooed the cyborg away. "It appears the Lady is sporting a fine, silken black gown with gold trim and heavy frills... and she's dressed Miss Raege in a traditional wireframe skirt... of her iconic grayish blue. I didn't realize they even made gowns that color."  
"Not particularly as flattering as the Lady's." The Colonel commented. "She looks pissed, though."  
"Probably because they noticed us." Dryd said, looking down at his white dress uniform. "We stand out with the decorations, I imagine."  
"What are they doing here?"  
"Who knows?" Dryd said, shrugging as he snagged a pinch of chocolate from a passing servitor. "Probably..." He dropped the morsel down into his mouth, eyeing the Inquisitor and the Commissar. "The Lady took her out on a social call."  
"Want me to get Ivo's squad up here?"  
Dryd gave the Colonel a mockingly disgusted look. "Come, Pavew! Let's not even conspire to ruin such a lovely occasion. Ivo can wait for another opportunity to deal with the Commissar. For now..."  
He downed the rest of his glass. "Let Conrad suffer the drollery of Calixian nobility."

"I have half a mind to go over there and stomp that pretty little head of his myself..." The Lady Inquisitor grumbled.  
Calmer now, Raege squinted at the two. "Who's that with him?" Raege asked.  
The Lady Inquisitor relaxed herself with a heavy breath. "Looks like one of his TASO goons." She said. "Judging from the number of shining objects I can see from here, probably a commander or something."  
Indeed, the combined reflectivity of the two men's chest decorations was sufficiently distracting - as Dryd had not worn so many medals at the trial, Raege assumed they were reserved for societal occasions.  
The background music suddenly became much more noticeable as it switched over to something of a light waltz; the Lady Inquisitor had turned her attention to the group which Toras was associating with, specifically one man, a tall fellow dressed in dark red and sporting a large mustache, with whom the Ilax scion had been speaking; after a few moments, they parted ways, and the man pushed his way through the shuffling crowd towards the Lady Inquisitor.  
"What's going on?..." Raege uneasily asked, looking about as men and women came together, already knowing the dreaded answer.  
"A dance." The Lady Inquisitor simply answered, not looking away from her approaching fellow.  
The man stopped before her, quickly kneeled, and stood up again. "Might I have this, Mamzel?" He asked.  
The Lady nodded. "But of course." She said, glancing back at Raege. "Try not to get into too much trouble." She instructed, before following the man into the center of the chamber.  
The two wrapped their arms around one another, beginning the slow steps of the popular routine. "My Lady," the man softly said, low enough to be inaudible for those around them, "I must say you've outdone yourself with this scheme."  
"Please, Florian." The Lady Inquisitor chuckled. "What's the word?"  
"It seems the Ilax runt is taking something of a fetishist's liking to the Commissar's scar. He wouldn't shut up about how attractive he thought it was." Inquisitor Charelman explained.  
The two momentarily parted, holding one-another by the hand while other pairs passed under their arched arms; they quickly joined again, and continued to twirl about among the various aristocrats.  
"Then that might be the way we'll start our duel." The Lady Inquisitor noted. "Conrad isn't particularly keen towards that kind of proposition."  
"I've heard the stories."  
The Lady dared briefly turn her eyes to some of the others present; Dryd had found himself dancing with the young heiress of House Laelian. "What's Dryd and his crony doing here?"  
"They crashed the party an hour ago." Charelman answered. "Well, Toras claimed to the doorkeeper they had been invited... but I think he just didn't want to be responsible for a strategic bombing of Sibellus."  
The Lady Inquisitor repressed a laugh. "It wouldn't surprise me at this point."  
Charelman turned his head briefly, as much as it would be regarded as a sin in the midst of this maneuver. "I hope Bastet's ready, because she's going to need to be."  
The Lady Inquisitor looked to the object of her associate's attention: Toras Ilax had approached Raege; within a shave of a second, the Commissar slapped the noble scion across the face, sending him backwards into a servitor carrying a tray of drinks. Even as the music continued, the waltzers ceased, and all the eyes in the room fell now upon the quarrel.  
Toras shook his hands of the alcohol covering them, and rose to his feet. "Insolent whore!" He screamed, the echo of his voice throughout the chamber signaling a cease of the tune. "My blade!" He shouted, and a servant rushed to his side with a sheathed weapon resting on a cushion. Quickly, Toras removed the thin, swept-hilted blade, tossing aside the scabbard; another servant hurriedly handed Raege a weapon.  
"Sergeant Lotte! On the honor of House Ilax, I duel you!" The Ilax scion declared as he took several frenzied steps forward.  
Raege swiftly tugged on her restrictive skirt, tearing away the countless layers until she was left with a far looser band of silk undergarment reaching to her mid-calf.  
The many guests cleared away from the center of the chamber to allow the duelists space; feigning a bout of nervousness, the Lady Inquisitor twisted a band of metal on one of her rings; content that she'd alerted the Callidus, she pressed herself against Inquisitor Charelman, playing now the part of the distressed damsel.

_Not a moment too soon,_ Zimmerman noted in lieu of the blinking light on her auspex, which had activated as she hid the nurse's naked, poisoned corpse in the corner of the utility closet. Donning the woman's visage and silhouette, Zimmerman put on her uniform. Picking up the weighty, rigged canister of purging vapor, she stepped out into the hall.  
She took note of the distinct lack of surveillance; the simplicity was very troubling, for such an accomplished family.  
She entered into the main hall of the ward, an open area surrounded by beds, enough for most the spire's full staff.  
The head Chirurgeon approached her. "Vita, I've been looking for you." He said. "Did you finish the forms for the Lord's medication?"  
"Yes." Zimmerman said; she put down the canister, and let out an exhausted sigh, as though it had been a struggle to carry.  
"Why do you have that?" The Chirurgeon worriedly inquired.  
An opportunity, Zimmerman realized. "I was asked to carry it..."  
"By who? Do you need some help?"  
Now, the climax; Zimmerman shook her head, and attempted to pick the canister up again. "No, no I can get it-" as she spoke, she loosened her grip, and the vapor container fell to the ground, its loose seal snapping off, spraying its contents everywhere.  
"Holy Throne!" The Chirurgeon yelped. In the process of opening his mouth, he inhaled the pressurized gas; within seconds he was on the floor gagging, and momentarily after that, the flesh inside his mouth deteriorated, spilling blood across the floor.  
As people ran in to see what was wrong, succumbing to the rapidly-spreading gas, Zimmerman rushed past to the utility closet in which she had hidden her tools, her face quite less human - she had sealed her lips and her nostrils, and had structured a thin layer of skin over her eyes to seal off the gas from any flesh.  
The entire ward began to blare with warning claxons as the toxicity auguries detected the substance: The main door to the ward sealed itself shut; the internal ventilation system closed itself. By the time Zimmerman dragged the nurse's body out, returned her clothing, and hid her, everyone in the facility was dead.  
With plenty of air remaining in the sacs she had grown specifically for the task, she rushed to the window at the far end of the storage hall, which overlooked a steep drop into the rest of the hive.  
She opened it, then slipped out; leaning dangerously far over the windowsill, she shut the pane behind her. With her escape path sealed, she leapt backwards onto the top of the window's ledge; she jumped again, grasping hold of one of the horizontal supports against a buttress. She continued her process of jumping from outcropping to outcropping, making her way up to her starting position on the roof...

The two blades clashed; Toras Ilax was aggressive, too aggressive, but Raege had eagerly met his approach. The noble scion's stance proved weak, and he was quickly repelled, forced to parry against numerous swift strikes from his foe. Their swords connected again, and they were once more forced into a pushing contest, but Raege quickly ended that by punching Ilax with her free hand, ushering forth a cry of astonishment from the gathered crowd. Raege attempted to stab at the recoiling nobleman, but he sidestepped, escaping with a glancing cut which tore his tunic and lightly cut his arm; nevertheless, the mono-edged weapon inflicted such searing pain that he nearly failed to parry again as Raege brought her weapon down on him.  
The two began to travel the circumference of their dueling space; Raege had taken on the appearance of a daemon as her loose black hair shook about with each increasingly furious strike.  
The Commissar's attacks grew, perhaps, more furious than she should have permitted as a duelist - Toras deflected a far heavier blow than any before, causing the swords of both combatants to fly from their hands; Raege's landed at the feet of Tactician Dryd in the forefront of the crowd. Raege took a step forward to take the weapon closest to her, which had covered little distance from the fact that its wielder had dropped it in a momentary shock; as she moved, Toras rapidly shoved her aside and dove for his blade.  
The other sword came skidding across the polished stone floor; Raege glanced over as she picked it up - Dryd stood, hands behind his back, with his foot stuck out.  
Toras, not entirely on his feet, attempted to stab at Raege... just as she slipped beside him and countered, piercing down into his torso, snapping through bone; as she pulled her sword from the wound, Toras breathlessly shrieked, and a horrible volume of blood spilled forth.  
Toras collapsed as Raege walked away, tossing the sword. The Lady Inquisitor nodded up at Charelman, and ran to the Commissar's side while her associate rushed to Toras.  
"By the Throne, help me get him to the medicae ward!" Charelman cried, holding Ilax up, attempting to drag him away.  
"We can't!" A servant cried, rushing to his dying master's side. "The medicae ward's been sealed, there's been a contamination!"  
"Get him to the front, quickly! I'll get my car, we need to take him to the hospice!"  
Dryd slipped back through the crowd to the entrance with Colonel Spiridon in-tow, and watched from afar as Charelman hurried out. A few moments after, two House servants ran out, carrying a moaning Toras Ilax to Charelman's grav-sedan; the two servants quickly rushed back in, calling for someone to alert Toras's parents. The Tactician took this opportunity to escape.  
Stepping out into the motorpool, Dryd sighed. "Well." He said, looking around; his sedan sat in its parking place, its driver and his secretary dutifully sitting within. "That didn't take long to spoil."  
"Where to now?" The Colonel asked, taking a seat in the back beside his superior.  
"Oh, I don't know." Dryd said, flipping Lady Laelian's calling card in his hand over. He handed it to his secretary. "Add that to my contacts list. Anyway, I suppose I've got some work to do back at my suite. You may go do as you please, Pavew."  
The Colonel grunted. "So be it."

Zimmerman, disguised as a hospice novitiate, lead Raege and Varm down the hallway, to the Ilax scion's room. Pushing open the door, she nodded to them. "You should have enough time, his primary reparative surgery starts in about an hour."  
"Can he talk?" Varm asked.  
"Yes."  
"Good." The Interrogator said, hefting his excruciator kit. "That's all I need."  
Zimmerman closed the door behind the two, and they locked it from within.  
Toras Ilax slept on his side; the Commissar's wound had caused bleeding within his lung, which required a drainage needle be inserted through his back until proper medical attention could be given. His parents had been furious at the fact there was no physician available, but such bureaucracy was a boon unto Raege... especially since it had been the Lady Inquisitor's ploy.  
Varm loudly set his kit's case on the ground, waking the Ilax heir. He stepped over to where the wounded man could see him, and tapped him on the shoulder. "Wakey wakey." He whispered, and turned the nobleman's head toward him. "You know things I want to know."  
"Who the blazes are you?" Toras snapped. "Where's the nurse? Somebody help me!"  
"Come now, Lord Ilax." Interrogator Varm teased, returning to his excruciator kit. "The rooms here are soundproofed. You wouldn't want to disturb other patients with your screams, would you?"  
Toras began to sob - an effort which hurt all the more with the needle in his lung. "What're you going to do to me?" He wheezed.  
"Like I said..." Varm returned to Toras's field of vision, bearing the jaw-splitter. "You know things I want to know. I'm sure this is really quite painful for you, but all you've got to do is tell us what we want to know, and we'll let you rest. Where is the hideout of the Bells of Violence on Scintilla?"  
"I have no idea what you're talking about!"  
"Groxshit! An entire cell was captured on Barsapine, and they all individually identified you as one of their benefactors!"  
Intimidation through lying - standard tools of the trade, Raege noted.  
"You seriously think I'll betray them?" Toras whimpered. "They'll do things to me, things way worse than whatever you can try!"  
"Conrad, open his mouth for me." Varm said. The Commissar complied, stepping over; the sight of her caused Ilax to tremble and moan.  
Raege forced open his mouth, and Varm stuffed the jaw-splitter in. "You know, they call this the pain pear. The more I twist this little handle..." The Interrogator began to open the device, forcing Toras to open his mouth. "The closer it comes to dislocating your jaw. I assure you, it will hurt far worse than your chest. Whenever you want to talk, just raise your hand. Now tell me... where are the Bells of Violence hiding?"  
He twisted the handle, causing Toras whine... but he did not lift his arm.  
"No? Let's try again..." He twisted it further, and Ilax's cry became far more desperate.  
"Still no?" Varm grinned, and twisted the device's handle again; Toras screamed, and began waving his arm madly.  
"Ready to talk?" Varm asked, loosening the tension and removing the jaw-splitter.  
Toras gasped. "Whenever they want something of me, I have to go down to the underhive! They have a hideout in the ruins of the Nurxis Estate!"  
"That didn't take much." Raege commented.  
"He's a big frigging baby." Varm said, putting away the jaw-splitter; he replaced it with a loaded syringe. "Alright, Lord Ilax... we had a deal..." He nodded over at the Commissar.  
Raege stepped forward, and tore the drainage needle from Toras's back, issuing another scream, which was quickly silenced when Varm jabbed the syringe into his neck and unloaded its contents.  
The two throne agents slipped out, leaving Toras unconscious in his room.  
An hour later, when the Lady Inquisitor's hand-selected physician came to take the Ilax heir to surgery, he found the aristocrat dead, drowned in his own blood, exactly as planned.


	18. Chapter 15

**XV**  
**ASHES**  
_"Gaze now on the ruins. This was once the crown jewel of their holdings in this cursed expanse, now rendered as compacted dust under the tread of their latest hubris. Such are the humans that they bear no respect for the old, for their own history..."_  
_– Warlock Yronashal, from within Hive Sibellus._

"Here, friends." Maenilar pointed out a sort of clearing in the rubble, beyond a caging row of collapsed pillars.  
Enormous derelict lumin-globes shone great beams of artificial light across the pitiful and unstable mass of the underhive, surviving as a forgotten leech off the Sibellan power grid - the genetorium Enginseers, tidally locked to the same ignorance of times past which the nobility above clung to, had never quite realized quite what it was that ate so much power.  
"It will happen here. Prepare." The Farseer ordered.  
Exarch Naechar stepped forward - her expression was well-hidden by her mask, but Maenilar could feel it: She was anxious. She was growing hungry for war. She needed to rest and contemplate her yearning.  
"Patience. The battle is nearly upon us." The Farseer spoke, looking to the other Avengers, and his Warlocks. He had already foreseen events; he had already foreseen the location. His own students were prepared for what positions to hide in, and everyone knew not to make any noise.  
The whole of them scattered - Maenilar remained with the Exarch, while his Warlocks spread the Aspect Warriors into hiding across the area.  
There they remained, waiting for their moment upon Maenilar's stage.

The plume of dust upset by the initial uncovering of the hole had only settled as the Commissar dropped into the pit. She pulled out her flash-torch, and looked about, while Dreiger and Freuden followed after her, scanning about with guns after they had landed.  
Raege reached into her kit, and produced the faded region map Levy had scrounged up for her; she looked for her position on the map. With the first part of her bearings, she clenched her flash-torch in her jaw, and pulled out a compass; she glanced about, searching for her path. Once she had a direction, Raege put away the tool and replaced it with a thick-ink pen. She labeled their entry point with a fat 'X' and plotted her team's initial path with a straight line: East, initially.  
"All clear, Sir." Dreiger announced.  
Raege turned her head to him, and raised an eyebrow. "Yes, thank you, Mister Dreiger."  
Stung by the Commissar's irritable wit, Vanheim followed after the Commissar, Kasrkin companion in-tow, as Raege descending into the ruins.

Sitting close, Maenilar gazed up at Naechar, and smiled. The Exarch, with her mask off, had her eyes closed, yet he knew she devoted little of her conscience to holding her obsession at bay. He bowed his head, and let himself drop into reminiscence, surprising Naechar by dragging her into the memedream as well.  
The two watched, both as bystanders and confined within their own roles, as under the starlight afforded by the white dwarf, the two youths put their lips together in a brash gesture of love.  
Maenilar ended it there, and opened his eyes exactly as Naechar did. She smiled softly at his teasing.  
"Do you remember those days as I do?" Maenilar whispered.  
"How could I forget?" She plainly answered.  
"I don't think I ever told you how much I regretted my decision."  
"No," Naechar rasped as she sat back, "you didn't."  
"Then, let me tell you how sorry I am." The Farseer leaned towards her, putting a hand to her cheek; she placed her own upon his arm as he craned his neck forward.  
"What do you intend to do, Maen?" She asked, suddenly dismal in the face of her old partner's rekindled affection. "Apologize for old choices, and then hope everything will be alright? I'm afraid that isn't possible, the way I am now."  
"I realize this." The Farseer said, sitting straight again. "I spent much time in the early nights on this Path, scrying the threads of the past, wondering if I could have done anything differently. I don't doubt you thought so."  
Naechar, now soured, snorted at this. "Why did you choose the Dire Avengers for this mission?"  
"I didn't."  
"I know, but why did you not suggest Kirintyr's Scorpions? We are general combatants, not shadow-strikers."  
Maenilar sighed, too lost in thought to pay her question mind. "I recall the long passes when I was gripped by the Bloody Hand as destroyer. I remember, each time I incinerated some bloated vehicle, I would focus my violence on the thought of my father, for his absence." He looked over at Naechar. "I imagine I was the object of your hatred, wasn't I? Am I not responsible for how you have succumbed to your curse? That was, perhaps, my greatest regret."  
Naechar narrowed her eyes. The emotions he left open to her, and the opaque veil over his intent both equally perturbed her. "Why do you speak as though you are dying?"  
Maenilar tilted his head, maintaining his smug expression. "Because, my dear, I am."  
This answer shocked Naechar such that she leaned towards him, transmitting the full sincerity of her worry in both mind and face. "What ails you? Is it terminal, is it some old wound? Is it-"  
Maenilar took her hand in his; the touch sent an empathic shock through her, and she immediately quieted.  
"It will come in time. Do not hold any regret when it does come, and do not feel yourself responsible. All I humbly ask - beg of you, is that you do not hate me all the more for it."  
The Farseer's gaze turned out upon the abyss of the underhive. _The time approaches._ He sent about to his entourage, staring again into the Exarch's eyes. _Be ready to kill on my command._  
Below and around, humans in armor painted with urban camouflage unwittingly took up vantage points within almost friendly proximity to the Eldar. Below, in the dim clearing, Conrad Raege, subject of the Eldar's presence, with bodyguards following, entered into what would be a fatal trap.  
_Keep quiet. Kill your prey without them learning of you._ Maenilar commanded, watching as Naechar donned her helm's mask again. _This will be the one action we are needed for. We will fly for Sar-Cyrs after this is complete. Be prepared, Kcarnassyl, Tsoannin._  
Kcarnassyl and Tsoannin were the least-experienced among the Seers and Avengers respectively, and little did they realize Maenilar had positioned them so that a loose piece of plate divided them from their targets.

Captain Ivo was one of the best; there was no doubting the fact. His TASO cell had never failed a mission in the fifteen years he had been its Captain. Talk filtered down to him that the higher echelons were considering making him the first 'Toryborn' Colonel of TASO. The glory weighed heavily upon him, filling his unit with pride, and him with a sense of accomplishment, but he did not permit the knowledge to go to his head – he was too smart for that...  
Unlike his former cellmate Lucjan - but he had already paid for his ineptitude, and the Auxiliary Command was regretting making him a Captain. Now, Ivo was left to right Lucjan's mistake.

Four men with sniper rifles, each watched by a second operative armed with a suppressed autogun. Closest to Maenilar was a man acting as a sniper's guard, one who emanated with egotism – his dominant stance, the additional markings on his carapace, and most importantly the power saber sheathed at his side all marked him as the Captain.  
Farseer Maenilar grinned.

"Everyone lined up with their targets?" Ivo whispered over his comm-bead.  
"Yes, Captain."  
"Yes, Captain."  
"Yes, Captain."  
"Be ready..." Ivo ordered.

_Kill them._ Maenilar broadcast.

Tsoannin stepped forward; narrow, curved power blade in hand, he took another step.  
The flooring beneath him rattled as he snuck up, and immediately the attention of the sniper and his guard were turned, and they instantly saw their assassin.  
"Eldar!" The sniper snapped over his comm-bead as his partner was disemboweled by the Avenger; he was then shot by Kcarnassyl.

Autogunfire erupted all around the clearing. Instinctively, Raege crouched down, fully alert to her surroundings.  
"Locals fighting. We need to move." Dreiger told the Commissar; she nodded, and the three of them retreated from the open space.

The sniper's head exploded, startling Ivo even while he was alert. The Captain turned and immediately saw Naechar and Maenilar, the former approaching with an incredible swiftness.  
"Fuck!" Ivo shouted, drawing his power saber as the Exarch charged him, the pale white blade of her diresword dancing about before him with astonishing speed. He parried so quickly that he doubted he would be able to do it again. The Exarch bounced back, and struck at a different location, begging the Captain to block again, only to kick him in the side when he deflected her blow. Ivo recoiled; Naechar quickly stabbed at him, but the Captain rolled into the direction his impact had taken him, and surprised the Exarch with a blast from the digi-weapon in his gauntlet. Naechar dodged, but left herself open to the grazing stab that followed.  
As the Exarch cried out, more in anger than in pain at the burning wound in her side, Ivo pushed her back, and attempted to swing his saber in an executioner's arc, only to pull away in the midst of the cut to avoid a horizontal slash of the Farseer's witchblade.  
For a few brief moments, Ivo and Maenilar exchanged blows, but Naechar could tell the Farseer was no swordsman. She got back to her feet, ignoring her wound, and took up her diresword…  
Exactly as Ivo gutted Maenilar, sweeping through his chest with a crescent tear. Naechar howled with a terrific fury, and ran Ivo through while he attempted to prepare himself for her. She began cutting, cutting, cutting, cutting even as the spirit of Nytornil, sealed within the diresword's hilt, shattered the Captain's mind.  
More than done, Naechar snapped to some shell of calmness, and dropped her diresword. She collapsed beside Maenilar, whose wounds had been so grievous that his blood pushed forth from the thinly-cauterized flesh.  
"Maen! Damn them all, Maen!" She spouted. "Why?"  
Maenilar smiled, but he was unable to speak – both of his lungs were in tatters. He rolled his hand over; Naechar took it in hers.  
He pulled her into a memedream again. The two stood atop the central bridge in the Cullis Over the Sea, bathed in the mixed glow of the blue-red binary: Naechar's face had been flushed with embarrassment at bumping into the taller Maenilar, but quickly discovered it had been his intent from the start – immediately after a few awkward words, Maenilar pulled from his robe a pendant he had bought for her hours ago. He placed it around her neck, grinning in that way that had become iconic of him to her. They had not dared to kiss in their embarrassment, but both had left that day filled with excitement.  
Maenilar offered to impress upon her mind the emotions that day had brought him; she accepted, pleased that the mix of hope, joy, and anxiousness had matched her own. With those feelings, however, he also placed something else:  
She knew, instantly. He had planned this.  
He had not wanted to tell her initially, because he knew she would try to stop his death; but it was necessary. The whole of his dangerous plot unweaved itself for Naechar: Everything from how he had involved Raege, how he had saved Levy's message to the Knights from being lost in the Warp, and how he now needed her to avoid speaking of it. The risk was worth being honest to her; Roedaelar respected her too much to search her memories.  
She understood, and assured him of her compliance.  
Content, his eyes closed to the world. His blue waystone began to glisten in the center of his ghost armor's breastplate. With his essence transferred into the now-green spirit stone, Naechar plucked it from his corpse.  
Clutching it, she stared down into its swirling depths, unable to muster tears for an event she was so-accustomed to.

The winding trail through the wreckage eventually came to a region of stability. Caught within a valley of compressed building materials stood a lonely, crude door of steel, marked with the letter 'D' in dried, faded blood.  
Raege looked at the map, then back at the door: They were standing right before what had once been the Nurxis Manor.  
"A 'death place' is what the locals call it." Dreiger spoke up. "When a raider crew gets big and bad enough down here even among the other scavvies, they'll mark their territory with that. Think of it as the ultimate mark of pride, or a challenge, because if one puts that up and his peers don't think he's worthy, he'll be eating shit for it."  
"This looks like it's been dry long enough." Raege commented.  
"They must be the real deal, for them to go so long without attacks."  
Hoisting her power fist, Raege stepped up to the door. Not bothering to see if the door was actually locked or not, she immediately slammed her gauntleted fist against it; the entirety of the bloodstained steel sheet crumpled inwards and flung off its hinges.

This event had not been revealed.  
Then again, the Great Conspirator had not revealed many of the latest events to the Dread-Master – much of what he had received in his visions was great laughter, like that of a cackling jester: A fool's laughter, perhaps as punishment for his failure at Matrinar, where the sound obliteration of much of his Skychildren had been the death-blow to the entire effort.  
As he prepared to move beyond his sanctum, expecting to do away with some raid by Underhive scavengers, he collapsed into another vision.  
This was her doing, the one who had undone his victory at Matrinar: She had now come for him.  
The Changer of Ways revealed all, and the Dread-Master knew that He forgave His lowly servant for the defeat at Matrinar – it had been nothing but a pastime, a tiny moat of dust in the face of the Time for Violence.  
There had been many times over the uncertain months where Rymen Valendr had considered the thought that His silence was evidence that He no longer held interest in the Dread-Master; but Rymen Valendr, the Dread-Master never let such thoughts overtake him, for his was a faith without par. With the sudden, sweet return of His company, all his meager doubts were fully shown to be baseless.  
The Great Conspirator bid the Dread-Master turn, and step forward; the Dread-Master obeyed, and came forward, feeling the flow of the Immaterium in the room; a portal, unseen yet known, opened before him, to take him on a course through the burrowing tunnels of unreality the Great Conspirator had shown him to be His.  
Made fully confident once more by Tzeentch's renewed show of trust, Rymen Valendr, the Dread-Master stepped through, and disappeared into the Webway.

Raege ducked into cover behind a lopsided pillar, which rested against another, still-standing support; Dreiger, then Freuden came in close behind her next, firing into the approaching cultists, all of whom wore robes of deep blue, and were armed with long ritual blades.  
Dreiger slipped in behind an overturned table; Freuden took up a position covering the Commissar, with a vantage point that checked Dreiger's back.  
"Shit! They sure aren't concerned about losses!" Dreiger shouted, ripping into the sea of cultists flowing out from within the shrine.  
This was not an original facet of Raege's plan – given factors such as the instability of the Underhive, she had assumed the Bells' hideout would be rather sparsely-populated, so as to avoid total collapse of the building. The numbers she was seeing coming forth to challenge them were not particularly what she had originally had in mind. Her power fist's weight was debilitating against so many enemies; a situation where she found herself bringing it to bear against one enemy while being swamped all around did not seem appealing.  
The three kept firing, managing to hold the lot at bay, right until they began to run low on ammo. Rather than bother to reload, Raege holstered her pistol, and drew a knife she had taken before the mission; Dreiger and Freuden affixed bayonets to their weapons, just in time for an onrush of melee targets.  
Freuden immediately stabbed an onrushing cultist in the neck, twisting his rifle around so that as he pulled it out of the wound he knocked over another. Dreiger, however, did not seem to have quite the expertise with close-quarters engagements that years as a Kasrkin had provided for Freuden, as he was desperately pushing back the cultists, who banged their weapons clumsily against his carapace armor at each opportunity they got.  
A cultist attempted to jump Raege, but she had already readied her power fist; the bulking gauntlet mashed into his chest, blowing away his ribcage, sending his corpse backwards to stumble the wave attempting to overtake Dreiger. Temporarily relieved, the mercenary took the opportunity to quickly slam a new charge pack in his weapon, and happily returned to using his weapon properly. The numbers began to thin, as Freuden also found time to reload.  
The balance completely shifted, however, as the wall at the far end exploded, blasting rubble across the foyer, killing a few dozen of the cultists which choked the interior. The ground shook; bodies were launched through the air as a hulking giant clad in armor burst in, swatting aside the meager cultists.  
The great being opened fire with its storm bolter, thinning out the numbers in the room, sending the Tzeentchian worshipers running, and driving Raege's team back into cover. The monstrosity bellowed in a frenzy, deafening the three present. Quickly recovered from her daze, the Commissar dared look out to see what it was she was fighting:  
The Space Marine was clad in black armor, spotted faint clouds of red; the edges of each plate on the carapace extended outward, ending as jagged blades; harsh, angular bronze shapes decorated the whole, studded with iron fastener-heads. Raege ducked as he brought his storm bolter to bear against her, smashing apart the pillar against which she had hidden.  
In the wake of this latest demolition, the Chaos Marine stood still while the three agents waited in hiding. "Pitiful mortals!" He boomed, swiping at the dust-strewn air with his inert chainsword. "You step in the threshold of a blessed sanctum! You defile this modest place with your presence, and threaten my charge!" He took a heavy, termorous step forward, waving his gun in the direction of Raege. "I am, Zsar-Etezsh of the Goring Blade, and I challenge you! Face me in combat!"  
He immediately started firing again, punching dirty holes into the pillar the Commissar hid behind, to the effect that Raege could feel the overhanging ceiling above her, supported by the ruined column, shudder. She dropped to her knees, and began to crawl away, unheard as the noise of the Marine's assault faded.  
"Leave your hole and face me, cowardly lapdog!"  
Raege slipped over beside Dreiger, who nearly jumped when he noticed her; without a word, she pushed him over, and began rummaging through his rucksack.  
"Commissar!" The mercenary desperately hissed as Raege pulled a grenade out of his pack. "The hell are you doing? That thing will bring down the whole damn floor!"  
The Chaos Marine smashed its way into the area Raege had once occupied, causing a great deal of debris to fall through the cracks now forming in the ceiling above.  
"Just shut up and watch!" Raege snapped, taking out the other three grenades Dreiger had brought with him.  
"There is no more hiding now! Face me!" The Traitor Marine bellowed, stalking forward as Raege hastily pulled pins from the explosives.  
With little time, the Commissar threw the cluster at the hulking giant, and leapt up from her hiding spot. "Move! Move!" She shouted, bringing both Dreiger and Freuden out of their hiding places.  
The Chaos Marine, realizing his error, attempted to leap away, exactly as the grenades went off; the destabilized stone pillar collapsed, bringing down the above ceiling upon the Marine. The entire foyer was choked in a white, chalky cloud. Raege, coughing, was disappointed when, as the dust cleared, a heavy gauntlet pushed its way out of the rubble left in the wake of the demolition.  
Zsar-Etezsh however, had not survived the ordeal unscathed - as he pulled himself up, it became evident his other arm had been crushed, with much of his body.  
"How careless." The traitorous giant groaned. "Or perhaps not. I am dishonored by this failure. Or perhaps not. But all goes as planned..."  
He lifted his mask, streaked with blood, towards Raege. "Or perhaps not. I have lost my trust in the validity of Valendr's visions. He swore they showed him I would be victorious. This contradicted my own visions, you see."  
Raege frowned. "Wait... who?" She asked, stepping forward. "What the blazes are you talking about?"  
"The Dread-Master." The Chaos Marine answered. "I am a convert of the Goring Blade. We have, by pact, allied ourselves to the cause of Rymen Valendr, the Dread-Master. You know him, do you not? The visions spoke that you were the foil of many of his past antics."  
"Visions?"  
"They speak to me, even as I lie bleeding beyond the capacity of my powers to survive..."  
Raege cautiously took a step back; Dreiger emulated.  
"They tell me all about it..." The Marine lifted his head towards the ceiling in some sort of reverent awe, taking in the shaft of lumin-light cast upon him through the hole. "Oh, how glorious it will be!"  
"You're insane." Freuden decisively hissed.  
"Am I? No. I am simply enraptured." The Marine groaned, and shifted about in the mess he was trapped under. "My allegiances are severed in death. My honor is forfeit. Rymen Valendr, the Dread-Master has left for the chapel at Faldon Kise. He intends to enact his plans from there."  
"Why are you telling me this?" Raege asked.  
"It is my instruction to do so." The Marine answered simply. "I die. But my soul shall be resurrected, and I shall be your destruction. Of this, I am certain..."  
Zsar-Etezsh lifted his gauntlet, and undid the bindings on his helmet - he slowly pulled it away, revealing the emptiness of his armor. The arm which grasped the helmet fell limp.  
While Dreiger and Freuden gawked, Raege looked back at the rest of the room. In the midst of the carnage, one of the fallen cultists stirred.

The screams of torture permeated the lower halls of the Tricorn. The noise had carried on for hours, but perhaps most disturbing of all, to Raege, was that Levy seemed unfazed by the noise as he approached.  
Flamboyant as ever, the Inquisitor tapped his cane and bowed. "Splendid work, Commissar!"  
Raege rolled her eyes.  
"The interrogation is yielding some very intriguing information. It coincides with what that heretical Marine told you."  
"Were you able to find anything out about him?"  
"Zsar-Etezsh? I honestly doubt that was his original name." Levy explained. "And we've never heard of these 'Goring Blade' fellows before... this is very concerning, I suppose." Levy twisted his expression, merrily making childish faces, before straightening up with another tap of his cane. "Anyway! A few instructions."  
Raege folded her arms. "Go on..."  
"We need to investigate the validity of this information. I know it sounds too good to be true, but you must go to Faldon Kise and search for the location of this chapel. If Rymen Valendr is behind this, mad as it is for him to be showing himself beyond warzones, he needs to be put down. See about doing that, but find out what his plan was first."  
"Is that all?"  
"No, no." Levy shook his head, and retrieved a folded piece of parchment from his overcoat. "A friend of mine recently wrote to me. She fears for her life. She needs a person to act as her bodyguard."  
"And how does this relate to me?"  
"I need you to suggest someone from your unit to go and act in that capacity." Levy explained, slipping the parchment again into his pocket. "Any ideas?"  
Raege looked away, and pondered this question for a moment. "Someone to be a bodyguard..."  
Levy smiled at her expectantly.  
"Well," Raege looked up at the Inquisitor again, "Second Lieutenant Branz is pretty intimidating at first-glance. He's a great fighter too. I'm sure he can help your friend."  
"Splendid! I'll have the orders sent to the _Ave Maria_ at once!" Levy said, and turned to skip away; Raege followed him initially, but stopped as he did so as well. "Ah yes, one last thing... Freuden will be accompanying you to Faldon Kise."  
"Why? Is he your little observer? Your spy?"  
Levy chuckled. "No, no, he's requested to join your unit. You don't mind at all, do you?"  
Raege lifted her brow and shrugged. "Not at all. More men's great."  
Levy clasped his hands together. "Great! We'll get you two underway soon..."  
With that, he began to walk again, with Raege, in want of some other focus, following close behind.

Within a few hours, Raege found herself on a shuttle platform, upon which rested Levy's modified Aquila.  
The Commissar stood, staring at the passenger bay, flanked on both sides by Dreiger and the hooded Zimmerman. Platform crews and servitors ran about, making final adjustments to the exterior of the vessel.  
Freuden approached, carrying a knapsack over his shoulder; his presence drew Raege's attention away from the lander. He put down his belongings, and saluted to her.  
"At ease." She said, simply. She turned to Zimmerman. "My thanks for your hard work, Bastet. I couldn't have completed my objectives without you."  
The assassin incognito bowed; Raege turned then to Dreiger, who quickly saluted as well.  
"At ease, kiddo." The Commissar said. "You've done a hell of a job."  
"Th-thank you, Sir." The mercenary hastily said, and bowed; the Commissar however, held her hand out to him - he took hers in his and shook. "Best of luck to you out there, Commissar."  
Raege nodded, and turned. Content, she boarded the Aquila.  
Freuden hefted his belongings, and grinned at Dreiger. "Next time we're on Scintilla, Van, try asking her out to dinner."  
The mercenary blushed and scowled. "Just shut up and get going you beardy bastard."  
Dreiger laughed at this, and began to step towards the lander. "See you around, Vanheim Dreiger."  
"See you, Rolm Freuden."

The lander took off soon enough, and took for the transport craft _Athanasia._  
Waiting for the transition to end, Raege's thoughts turned quickly to the matters she had left behind in coming to Scintilla; the matter of Sergeant Neuehoffe weighed heavily on her.  
With no other distractions, her worries quickly began to gnaw at her...


	19. Chapter 16

**XVI**  
FATE'S BROKEN STRANDS  
_"The best advice I can give you is simple. Do not fall in love."_  
_- Sergeant Skinar, Catachan 254th._

Carrying a pair of crates loaded with parts, Mik Branz stepped into the hangar - Yaroslava and Carlyle had converted the space to their purposes, though the Captain's approval of this remained in doubt.  
Carlyle was welding together some plasteel scraps; Yaroslava was likely struggling with the same mechanisms she had been on that morning.  
Evidently, neither of the two had heard him enter. "Yo." He called out once, but quickly realized his soft voice was deafened by Milly's las-torch. "Yo!" He shouted again, even louder... with perhaps a bit too rash a tone, he realized.  
A loud crash came from the interior of the tank, followed by a shrill yelp. "Graebanoyae...!" Yaroslava hoarsely shouted, catching her Drookian companion's attention.  
After a few seconds of shuffling through cluttered tools, Zoya, covered in old grease, popped up from the turret mount. "Hey there, Mik!"  
Branz bashfully hefted the boxes, metal pieces jingling about within. "Brought the order up."  
"Great!" Zoya cheerily exclaimed, climbing out from the mess which had once called itself a Leman Russ. "I can finally make some progress on that damn assembly!" She happily said, unconsciously rubbing the back of her head as she stepped up to the Mordian.  
Branz frowned as she took the supplies from him. "Sorry to startle you."  
"Oh, don't worry about it." Zoya said, giving him a reassuring smile. "I was getting way too angry in there. Some dumb accident like that was inevitable."  
The Mordian tapped the toe of his boot against the floor plating, and looked around the hangar - most of it was largely empty, save the tank and the two laborer's work materials. "So..." He nervously began, loath to pester the Vostroyan with his daily question.  
Yaroslava shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mik. She hasn't been by today, either."  
Branz disappointedly lowered his head. "Ah."  
"I canna' tell ye' wha's got'n inna' the Sergeant." Carlyle distractedly commented as she began to pick through her scrap heap for a suitable piece of metal. "Usually she's a mighty straight-headed lass. This queerness is dumbfoundin'."  
Yaroslava shrugged. "It's like Angela's avoiding us." She said, wiping the beads of sweat from her pale, dirty forehead. "She's at role-call, I'm sure you see, but she disappears as soon as it's done, and we can't even talk to her."  
"She takes a completely different route around the ship. If she's ever in bunk, it's probably after lights-out." Branz noted; Yaroslava and Carlyle nodded at this in unison. "Shit." The Mordian sadly muttered. "She's really taking her sister's death hard."  
"She hasn't even told us what happened yet. She doesn't tell us anything. She doesn't show up at fight club, she doesn't come to check up on us... she just completely avoids talking with us aside from where it's necessary."  
Branz lowered his head for a moment, pondering the same thing which had been prodding him the last month. "Well... thanks anyway. Is there anything I can do to help you here?"  
Yaroslava shrugged. "Unless you've ever worked with an engine block..."  
Branz held up his hand. "No. Sorry."  
"Thanks anyway."  
Branz tipped his hat to her, and stepped out.  
Yaroslava pretended to act busy for a moment, toying with a bolt on the Russ's track while eyeing the door Branz had left through. Once she was certain the Mordian was gone, she sighed.  
"Sure ye' c'n take this lyin' b'sness?" Carlyle asked, standing over her work.  
"Why, can't you?"  
"I'm fully able. Ye' haven't answered th' question, though."  
"What choice do I have, Mil?" Yaroslava rhetorically asked, and looked about apprehensively... anywhere but Carlyle. "We owe Angela this much. Throne knows what's going through her head right now."  
"J's answer th' bloody question."  
Yaroslava was quiet for a moment, bearing an expression of frustration, until she finally surrendered. "No. No, I don't think I can..."  
Content, Carlyle set back to work.  
Zoya began to fretfully pace about the hangar floor. "I mean, it's bad enough knowing the truth about Eva, but does she really have to go shunning Mik, too?" She looked over at Milly, who was now donning her welding visor. "This tough-girl crap is ridiculous, she's only hurting herself."  
Carlyle simply began welding again.  
The Vostroyan scowled, and returned to the tank interior.

What had it been? Nine... seven? No.  
Eight rounds. Eight brutal rounds of tie after tie-breaker. The stamina the two brawlers had shown proved to be their undoing. Betting fans had begun to get rowdy, especially with the amount of money in the pot for either contestant. By the time Griz had finally called an end to the match, both Branz and Angela were sore and bruised and covered in sweat and blood. The crowd had been utterly furious, that much he vaguely recalled as he returned to the lockers to clean up.  
There was no real partition between the two showers for gentlemen and ladies, so he had not heard her come in. She practically pounced him while he was still putting his tunic on, and he was too tired to do anything, not to mention he did not want to fight her on such improper terms.  
As he lifted himself up, she pressed his back against the floor with less force than she had before, and straddled over his body. "Erm..." He let his arms rest uselessly over his head. "What are you-"  
She undid the single button on her own top which had not yet been undone, and slipped out of the whole shirt behind her back, revealing her underwear - in one instant silencing him completely. She let herself gently fall atop his chest, legs grinding against his. "Keep quiet." She said with an uncharacteristic softness, placing a finger against his mouth before raising up again. Writhing about atop him in some seductive dance, she began to undo her brassiere...

Branz contentedly took a seat with a decent view of Zweihan's World, off to starboard. He undid the cap on his rotgut bottle, and sat back for a moment. Perfect time to think. About Angela, specifically.  
The sudden dissociation had hurt him sorely, and he found he was horribly confused by her actions. Contemplating this, any trace of his enjoyment for the sight at starboard faded from his face.  
"Lieutenant."  
Branz turned his head; Raffin Mar stood by, a smug expression on his face.  
The Mordian grinned. "Uh-oh. I know that look." He said, watching as the Forge Worlder sat across from him. "What's up, Raff? Where's your cohort?"  
"Griz is helping with shipping. Have I said congrats on your promotion yet? Have I?" Branz nodded. "Okay, good. I know, it's been a while. Anyway, I can't help but say I know the look you had a few minutes ago, too well."  
"It's Second Lieutenant, by the way. And what look?"  
"Oh, the look of a man with troubles." The Skorgulian leaned in. "Lady troubles, I'm willing to bet."  
"I don't think that's any of your concern." Branz commented, mixing his speech with soft laughter.  
"Oh, what a giveaway. Come on, go ahead and tell me! We're pals, right?" Mar smiled wide, a gesture with a sarcasm not at all aided by his lack of eyes. "I've got an idea what it's about too."  
Branz narrowed his eyes.  
"So, what's up?"  
Branz hesitated for a moment, rocking about in his chair uneasily. "I..." He did not look at Mar while he spoke. "You know Angela?"  
The Skorgulian gave him a blank stare.  
Branz turned his head now. "Neuehoffe?"  
Mar made an odd face, and shook his head.  
"The Krieg Sergeant?"  
"Oh. Her. What about her? Isn't she dead?"  
"No, that's her sister, Eva."  
"Ah. So what's up there?"  
"She..." Branz took a heavy breath. "She won't talk with me."  
Raffin Mar stared at him with an expression which would have required the ability to blink. "Really?" He asked with a mockingly enthusiastic tone. "Funny, because she doesn't talk to anyone."  
"She and I have... something going... and she has been avoiding me lately." The Mordian explained. "I bet it has something to do with her sister, but I just don't want to stick my nose in her business..."  
Mar laughed at this. "You sure as hell want to stick something in her business!" He howled, leaning so far back he nearly fell out of his seat.  
Branz frowned at him.  
Mar sat forward again, and wiped at his nose. "Sorry. Sorry. I've always been under the impression she was an ice-bitch, though. Care to tell me how it is you managed to woo someone like that?"  
Branz looked out at the planet again. "Remember that one fight club you had a while back?"  
"You mean the one I barely avoided a flogging for by canceling the last match an hour ahead of time?"  
"Remember that one betting round I had against Angela?"  
"Ah yes." Mar knowingly wagged his finger. "The one where I barely avoided being killed by betters over the mess that was the wage return, by slipping out through the maintenance duct. Nice job screwing up ten times."  
At this, Branz nearly choked as he took another drink. He and Raffin shared a chuckle for a moment. "Here, you want a drink?" He asked. Anything to distract him...  
Mar held up his hand, and produced from his coat a bottle of his own. "Local brew. Bought it on shore-leave." He explained, and pried the seal off. "Anyway, you should realize getting me drunk won't make me forget what we're talking about, so! You were saying?"  
Branz groaned, and sat back. "After we tied the eighth round and Griz let us go, she jumped me in the lockers and started stripping."  
"And that right there, that was your first time?" Mar cracked, snidely giggling.  
Mik ignored this. "We started seeing each-other after that."  
"Wow. I've met a lot of women with a lot of different turn-ons, but I never marked down brawling as arousing."  
Branz blushed. "Oh, shut up."  
"Right, right. So what's happened, then?"  
Branz shrugged, and put his hands against the table with a heavy slap. "I have no idea in the slightest. She hasn't talked to me since we left Kulth."  
"I'm willing to bet it wasn't how you thought it was, my naïve little Mordian. You were what we call a 'friend with benefits' in her eyes. Knowing whores like that, she probably got bored-"  
"Groxshit." Branz snapped, mainly out of impulse. He immediately regretted it; he rubbed at his forehead and exhaled. "She and I... we... shit, I can't explain it to you."  
"Yeah, whatever you say." Mar slyly said, and downed more of his drink. As he took the bottle from his mouth, he smacked his lips together, and grimaced. "You know what?" He wittingly asked, attempting to crack a smile. "This stuff is horrible."  
He promptly turned to the floor beside the seats, crumpled over, and released the contents of his stomach across the deck. Branz simply watched with a blank stare.  
"Dumbass Zweihan's World breweries." Raffin Mar grunted, standing up, cluching his stomach. "They've given me food-poisoning."  
"Come on." Branz stood up as well, and pushed the whining Skorgulian along by his backside. "Let's go get you some de-tox from medicae."  
"Good idea." Mar wheezed, lurching about as he fought against his body's urge to puke again.

The air between the two had been, if anything, incredibly awkward at that moment.  
They had, literally, bumped into one-another in the midst of an otherwise dead hallway; the most either had been able to say was, in perfect synchronicity, "sorry."  
Their gazes dashed about, never daring meet, always diverting the instant they almost connected.  
"Are you... mad?" Angela asked. Everything about the way she was acting was completely uncharacteristic. "About last night."  
Branz blinked. "I... um..." He scratched at the back of his neck. Talking to her seemed so strange when he could actually see her face.  
They finally permitted their stares to collide. The look she gave him was, rather than her usual mask of cold and unfeeling stone, something utterly pathetic.  
"No." He finally admitted.  
The two stood, staring, for several seconds. Branz tried to open his mouth, but only found words to speak after some half a minute had passed. "I... well... we're going to be hitting Magna Crutz pretty soon." He explained, receiving a nod of acknowledgement from Angela. "So, I was wondering if you, uh... wanted to go see some sites with me." He blurted out.  
Both of them were quiet again, staring...  
Branz tugged at his collar. "I-I mean, I hear from some of the Calixian guys that it's a pretty nice place." He sheepishly said. "So I was wondering if... if you-"  
"Sergeant!"  
Branz looked up; Angela turned around - the Commissar was approaching.  
"Angela, can you come speak to me in my office? We need to work out how we're going to set up your squad." The Commissar looked over at Branz. "I assume you've been adjusting well, Private?"  
Branz nodded. "Yes, Sir."  
"Good." Raege nodded to the two of them. "As you were." She said, and walked away, gesturing for the Sergeant to follow.  
Angela looked up again at Branz, then glanced over in the Commissar's direction again. "Consider it a date." She whispered to him, and hurried along, leaving Branz with a dumb expression on his face.

"Shit..."  
Dietrich's eye dilated, then refocused as her attention snapped back again. "Hm. New voice." She commented to herself; her servo-skull looked down at her, as a marionette turning to its puppeteer. "Mild, painful quality, slight slur of speech. Most probable ailment is alcoholic intoxication..."  
"Hey, hey! Don't you dare puke on me, Raff." Branz snapped, grabbing Mar by the waist before he could fall over. "You lightweight." He taunted; he lifted the Skorgulian back to his feet, and helped him into the ward's cot-lined main entrance.  
Branz stepped into the middle of the main hall. "Anyone in here?"  
As the mangy, scarred, bone saw-wielding servitor stepped out into the open with a smile on her face, Branz immediately wanted to turn and leave.  
"Hello!" Dietrich warmly said in greeting, waving her operation arm.  
"Wha'sa matter, Mik? Don' like ser'i'ors?" Mar teased.  
"I apologize if you find me discomforting." Dietrich said. "The primary staff is presently at lunch. I am the only one here."  
Mik unsteadily nodded, and attempted to shelve his initial discomfort. "I... uh, I see."  
Raffin Mar gasped again, and belched up the last of his stomach's contents across the ward floor... and Branz's boot.  
"Confirmed initial diagnosis.." Dietrich announced, looking at the mess. "Heavy intoxication beyond tolerance levels."  
Branz raised his eyebrow at this. Raff really was a lightweight.  
The servitor quickly noticed the state of Mik's feet. "Oh dear, your polished shoes! If you want, there are clean washcloths in the shelf there." Dietrich pointed off at an unfitting white cabinet attached to the wall. "Go ahead and put your friend down on one of the beds."  
Branz did so, and went to take something to clean himself off while the servitor moved to Mar, who was groaning to himself while clutching his stomach.  
"Disease is not harmful beyond severe headaches and digestive pains..." Dietrich mumbled. "May I ask?"  
"Hm?" Branz looked back.  
Dietrich smiled up at him while loading her servo-skull's injector with a mild anesthetic. "What are your names?"  
"Ah." Branz looked over at his friend. "That's Raff. Raffin Mar."  
"And what of you? No need to be bashful."  
"I'm Mik Branz. You need ranks from either of us?"  
The servitor shook her head. "That will not be necessary. I will, however, require sanguinary samples from both of you for possible future operations."  
"Alright..."  
"Oh!" The servitor's face lit up with an expression of surprise, perhaps embarrassment as well. "I am sorry. My name is Dietrich."  
"Nice'a mee'ya, Dietrich." Mar rasped, as smug as ever.  
Cleaning the stomach fluids from his boot, Branz watched as the servitor gave the Skorgulian his remedy, precisely dodging the bulking subdermal plates across his arm; pulled back after giving the treatment, the injector began to glow as though incredibly warm - a sterilization process, the Mordian realized, possibly a small power field around the needle. With her instrument clean, the servitor jabbed it again into his arm, and began to extract blood from it.  
"You sure you should be drawing blood without knowing how much he has?" Branz worriedly asked.  
"The little one's vitals are indicative of an individual in optimal condition." Dietrich answered, now depositing the blood in a vial along the side of her diagnostor.  
Branz frowned at the servitor's choice of words, then relaxed as she came over to take his blood.  
"Roll up your sleeve, please, my child." She asked, to which the Lieutenant complied, albeit slightly concerned at how she referred to him. "You are in incredible condition from initial observations!" She commented as she plunged the re-sterilized needle into his arm. "That does not hurt?"  
"No."  
"Good!" Dietrich said as she began to draw the injector, blood following the pump upwards.  
She turned her diagnostor arm over; the filled blood vial within switched out for an empty one, which she transferred the Mordian's sample into. "Would you please wait a bit?" She kindly asked.  
Branz shrugged. "Sure."  
After a few minutes in something approaching a catatonic state, Dietrich smiled up at the Lieutenant again. "Processing finished." She said.  
"So what about him?" Branz gestured over at Mar, who was grumbling to himself.  
"He will no longer be in such severe discomfort as the anesthesia takes effect." The servitor explained. "However, he will have a severe 'hangover,' and he will likely need to rest here a while, as his liver has yet to properly remove the alcohol from his body."  
"Naturally."  
Raffin blubbered something quite similar to "fuck you."  
Dietrich looked up at Branz again. "It was great meeting you, Mister Branz." She said. "And, tell Miss Neuehoffe I hope she's feeling better."  
"I will..." Branz initially turned to leave, but then quickly double-took to the servitor again. "Wait what?"  
"Are you not in a relationship with her? Or is it more sexual in nature than it is-"  
Mar began laughing. "Ev'n th' s'rvi'or's on'a ya!"  
"H-how did you know we were together?" Branz stammered.  
"Your DNA matches that of her developing child."  
Mar, even in his stupor, suddenly stopped laughing upon hearing this exposition; Branz's eyes grew as wide as they possibly could.  
Then, immediately, he turned and ran out.  
"Oh dear. He does not seem to know." Dietrich lightly frowned. "What a poor choice of words on my part."

With a soft sigh, Angela had rested her head against Branz's bare chest; as she snuggled against him, he wrapped a muscular arm around her back and held her close. The two smiled at one-another.  
"You're so big and brawny, Mikky. " She teased, enticing a broader grin from him. The way the Sergeant acted in private was completely different from her public façade. To the crew, she was Sergeant Neuehoffe: Iron-disciplined, uncomfortably quiet on the rare occasion she had her mask off, and a tough brawler in the weekend rings.  
To Branz, she was Angie: Soft and shy until situated, warmly loving, and still a tough brawler in the weekend rings.  
To Neuehoffe, he was Mikky: Apparently she found his muscles and scars sexy. He could not, for the life of his modest self, think of any other redeeming qualities about him.  
"Mikky" had found himself in the odd position of being sole possessor of his room, since Minhelm had refused to sleep in the same space as him, and since he lacked a permanent station besides as his superior's adjutant, he slept mostly alone... except on the nights where Angie saw fit to sneak in with him.  
Knowing they were in no danger, she closed her eyes, content to fall asleep against him. She would simply get up and leave early for her own bunk.  
Branz lifted up his arm; she looked up into his eyes. "Angela, have you ever thought about... retirement?"  
She laughed under her breath at this. "That's not a concept familiar to the Korps, really. Discharge wasn't an option to us."  
"Well yeah, but you're no longer in the Death Korps. You're hundreds of millions of lightyears from Krieg."  
"From my regiment, too. Why do you ask?"  
"Well, I..." Branz anxiously looked about in the dark. He took a deep breath, then looked back down at her. "... Was thinking."  
"That's unusual."  
Mik gave her an amused look. "Well, I wondered, how would you like, after a few years, to ask the Commissar to let us leave the unit? She thinks well of us enough as it is, we could probably get away with it sooner or later."  
"Isn't Guard life fine enough?"  
"Sure it is, but..."  
Angela put her hand against his lip as he searched for words - it always had the effect of hushing him completely. "We were always taught in the Death Korps to look forward only to death. War was our only option. We didn't retire. Entire regiments were expended in charges. That was the norm." She sat up, her bare back exposed to Branz. "But me and Eva, we weren't part of the norm. I don't know what it was. I've always wanted to protect her, and that's basically overridden the Guard training."  
She turned to him again, and laid herself against him, face-to-face. "Ever since I took the Inquisitor's offer to leave regular service, ever since I came on this unit, I've fantasized about getting away from this all with my sister. She doesn't deserve the kind of horrors she's seen." She turned her face from him, resting her head again on his chest. "I don't want this much longer either. It's been draining this last year alone. I was trained so that this sort of anxiety was impossible, but that's basically undone itself completely. I'm absolutely terrified about the future, Mik."  
Mik put both his arms around her. "Then let's leave. Let's go find some life somewhere else. Maybe settle down in some quiet, backwater wilderness, or, or on a windy hill."  
"But doesn't that feel so... selfish? Just leaving the Guard like that, so that we can guarantee our own survival?"  
"Angie," Branz cusped his hands on her face, and she rose up to look at him again, "I'm not suggesting this for my sake. I'm suggesting it for you. You want this for your sister."  
He brushed a golden lock from her face. "And I bet she wants to see you relax every now and then. You're absolutely beautiful like this. I want to grow old with you on some quiet, stable planet, somewhere nobody will bother us."  
She scoffed, and put her lips against his; after a few seconds they separated again. "For such a dumbass, you're a real poet."  
"I try."  
The two wrapped the covers tight, and closed their eyes.  
"Mikky?"  
"Yeah?"  
"I love you."  
"I love you too."

Branz ran as though he were escaping some predator. The urgency his excitement afforded him certainly did match that feeling.  
As he came to a turn he collided with Lockwood and Boone, who were just coming upon that same corner.  
"Mik! The hell aren't you paying attention to where you're going?" The Major cracked.  
"Sorry, Major, Mamzel!" Branz hastily said, getting back to his feet and continuing, leaving the two confused. "I'm in a hurry!" He shouted to them as he leapt through a compartment airlock.  
"I can see that, you ass!" Zune jokingly called to him, but he was already gone.  
Branz rushed through halls, passing up familiar faces left and right, generally disrupting conversations and labor as he frantically ran to Angela's room, never stopping, the only indication he even realized he had done damage being the swift string of apologies he gave as he charged on.  
When he got there, he found the door locked. Immediately, he began banging his fist against it. "Angela! Angela, are you in there? Angie, we need to talk!"  
There was no answer.  
"Dammit, Angela! We need to talk about this!"  
For a brief moment, in his agitation he glanced about... just as Sergeant Neuehoffe appeared from around the corner.  
At the sight of the Mordian, she immediately lurched backwards out of his view; he quickly followed. "Angela!" He shouted; she ignored him. "Angela!"  
She continued to walk away, if a bit more hurried.  
"Sergeant! I order you to stop!"  
At this, Neuehoffe froze; she seemed to shake, then straightened her posture and turned to face him.  
"Lieutenant..." She calmly said. Branz could hear the squeal of her leather gauntlets as she tightened her fists.  
"We need to talk." Branz took a look around; Trooper Rahm was staring at their commotion further down the hall. "Preferably alone. In your room, please?"  
Branz thought he saw her tremble, but she nodded anyway, and stepped by him; he followed.  
She let him into her squad's bunk, and took off her mask and pulled back her balaclava while he shut and sealed the door.  
She silently gazed up at him with a blank expression as he stepped closer to her. For a few seconds, he simply stood with his eyes fixed upon hers as well.  
Then, he grinned.  
"Why didn't you tell me!" He gleefully said.  
"I have no idea what you're talking about..." Angela uneasily said, taking a step back.  
"That you were pregnant!" Mik exclaimed, grabbing her arms. "Pregnant, with my child! This is..." He exhaled, and staggered back against a bunk. "There's no words to describe how happy I am right now, this is wonderful!"  
Angela frowned, and sat down on her own cot with her head tilted away from Branz.  
Seeing how guilty she looked, he sat beside her, and craned his neck to look at her face; she reacted by turning her head further.  
"There's no need to feel bad about this, Angie." Branz comfortingly said. "Surely Raege doesn't plan to reprimand us for having a relationship, especially not now that we're having a baby! We're gonna have this kid, and we're gonna leave the Guard to raise him. I'll bet the Commissar will understand."  
She said nothing.  
Worried now, he frowned as well. "Angie?" He gently put his hand to her chin, and turned her head to him with no resistance, but she still refused to look him in the eye. "Angie, it's about your sister isn't it? Losing her must have really torn a hole in you. But you've got to let it go. I'm here for you, and we've got a future..."  
He tried to lay his hand on her cheek now, but she pushed him away. "We aren't having a baby."  
"What?" Branz stood up again out of surprise. "Don't tell me you want to abort..."  
"I already did."  
"You can't be serious..." Branz wheezed. "And you didn't tell me? Why?"  
"You don't know anything, Mik." She turned to face him; he realized her eyes were bloodshot, glistening with welling tears. "You don't know anything. You don't know what happened."  
"Only because you haven't told me. I want to know."  
"You want to know?" Angela asked, standing up; her stance grew desperately defensive, and she timidly gave him a rueful scowl. "You really want to know, how I killed my own sister?"  
"What?"  
"It was on the hulk!" Angela bawled. "A genestealer attacked me! It raped me, violated me, enthralled me! I killed Eva because that damned thing willed me to, and I didn't resist!"  
Branz took a step forward, holding his arms out to her. "Angie, you couldn't possibly have-"  
"Shut up, Mik!" Angela yelled, taking a step back from him. "I didn't fight back! I didn't fight back..." Crying, she hunched over and clutched her stomach. "Oh, oh Throne, I didn't resist! And worse, Mik..." She took a terrible, labored breath. "Worse, that beast took our baby. It twisted it into some- some malignant... thing!"  
She looked up at him again, finding him mortified and confused. She undid the buttons of her greatcoat, then those of her tunic, pulled up her undershirt, and showed him the surgical scar. "Then they cut me open, and pulled out my child. Don't you get it, Mik? I've had a tainted _monster_ germinating inside me!"  
_'Monster'_ had been spat forth with such a spiteful bile that Branz only recognized from the demented.  
Neuehoffe buried her face in her hands. "Our baby is gone! Our baby is gone..."  
"Angela..." Branz tried to take a step towards her, to put his hand on her, but she violently jolted back from him, against the far wall of the room.  
"Stay away from me, Mik! Don't come near me, don't ever come near me ever again!" She snapped. "I killed your child, our child!" She collapsed to her knees, and began to sob nigh-uncontrollably. "We don't have any future. My sister is dead. Someone like me doesn't have anything to live for."  
Branz opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated in uncertainty. "Angie..."  
"Go..." Angela said under her breath. "Go, Mik, just... just go."  
Branz glanced about, searching for soothing words to say. Then he closed his eyes and sighed.  
He turned from her. He unlocked the door, and left.  
After closing the bunk behind him, he ran his hand over his face, mouth dumbfoundedly hanging open. What he had just heard was such a shock, he found himself unable to cry.  
As he began to wander the halls, Lara Minhelm appeared, proudly displaying her new, full Lieutenant shoulder bars on her purple uniform.  
"Second Lieutenant." She calmly said, causing him to reactively salute her. "I've been looking for you."  
"Mam?"  
Minhelm handed him an envelope stamped with Levy's seal. "A ship commissioned by the Inquisitor just arrived with instructions to give that to you, and to brief you on the situation. You've been signed up for a job by the Commissar."  
"What am I to do?" Branz asked, feigning some interest in the letter's contents.  
"You're to be working as a bodyguard. High profile subject, apparently. Inquisitor's request."  
"Understood."  
"Pack your things, you'll be leaving in a few hours." She clicked her heels together. "Dismissed."

Resting his head on one hand, Mik had playfully ran the other through Angela's long hair.  
"Mikky?"  
"Yeah?" He tiredly asked.  
"What do I mean to you?"  
"More than the Imperium."  
Angela rolled over to smile up at him; she slid her arms around him. "I mean... are you sincere? Are we a couple? I know we got started in a really strange way."  
"Of course I'm sincere." Branz assured her, putting a hand on her waist. "This isn't just about sex, you're my everything. I love you, Angela."  
"I love you, Mik." Angela pulled herself against him.  
They kissed.  
Angela pushed away from him, and faced away from him again; he picked back up on caressing her locks.  
"All of this is insane." She said. "I want to get away from it. No more Space Marines. No more assassins. No more heretics. No more Inquisition. Just me, my sister..."  
She reached back and pulled his head to hers. "... And you. You'll keep me safe, won't you?"  
"Of course." He whispered to her, smiling softly.

Watching the _Ave Maria_ recede from view through the shuttle, Branz was hit with the remorse of realizing his failure: He had not said it at that final moment. He had not told her how much he loved her.  
He looked away. Enough thinking about that. He had to get himself together, he had to forget...  
He had a job to do.


	20. Old Ties

**OLD TIES**

Tyreon Dryd hated wars of attrition – his entire career over the past couple decades had been founded upon lightning-war strategies, for which he had earned enough respect among his colleagues in the Tacticae to be given the same sort of breathing room a more senior advisor would receive.  
Both manifestly and transitively, then, Tactician Dryd hated Lord General Hadig Traevun. The inbred commander of the Urgik V campaign had systematically ignored Dryd's every suggestion, lost four different munitions stocks to Ork kommandos, and had responded to the loss of the entire Third Corps by ordering the Second Corps to immediately entrench amidst an Ork assault. Of the four total commanders Dryd had served with, Traevun had systematically proven himself the stupidest.  
At least Lord General Ranc had gained his position through decades-long struggle; Traevun, however, had attained his post shortly before the campaign began, due to his being a member of the Kulth nobility. He knew neither the troops he was leading, nor any experience with command. In fact, Traevun's incompetence had led to the catastrophe Dryd found himself dealing with when his aide came running in with the latest troop movements:  
The supply lines to the Second Corps First Division had been disrupted by Ork saboteurs. A quick search discovered the First Division's resupply route passed through a perilously unstable section of the canyons which connected the Forward Operations command to the Division's basecamp; Dryd found within the order copy that Traevun had issued a note mentioning that the route was the best possible in order to "avoid hostile aircraft raids."  
There had not been a single report of Ork aerial units throughout the entire campaign.  
Worse, the First Division's position was the center of fighting. The troops were planning to make a battlefield rotation in order to resupply and freshen their ranks, but that was made difficult by a severe lack of provisions.  
Fuming, Dryd dropped everything in his office and stormed out into the main chamber of his command multitrack, summoning the unit's guard captain Vilielmo to follow him out into the hot sun.  
"What's up?" Captain Vilielmo asked, shouldering his weapon as he hopped out the back access port behind the Tactician.  
"Enough is enough, Damo." Dryd snapped, breaking stride for a brief moment to see just where Traevun had moved his Leviathan that morning - the General had a compulsion to order the vehicle moved a few meters in one direction or another every few hours to ensure any hypothetical artillery fire directed at it would be more likely to miss.  
"What are you talking about?" Vilielmo worriedly asked as Dryd began striding towards the colossal command vehicle, parked some twenty meters off east. The Leviathan's new position left the monster with little moving room against the rock wall of one of the Great Gardickan Steppes.  
"Traevun lost another supply movement. The Orks dropped several tons of rock down on top of the line of Trojans. That may have just cost us the entire First Division unless I take command, immediately." Dryd explained, striding forward with increasing haste.  
"Don't be stupid, Tyreon," Captain Vilielmo warned, "no way in hell are you going to be able to snatch command from him. I won't let you either."  
Dryd stopped for moment, and turned back to the Captain. "I'm sorry?"  
Vilielmo suddenly became tense. "I technically have to shoot you, Sir. You're... you're attempting to commit mutiny."  
Dryd narrowed his eyes, and spat to the side as a bead of sweat rolled onto his upper lip. "Don't be stupid, Vilielmo," he sourly mocked the Captain, "think for a moment. Where is the First Division located in relation to us?"  
"About a klick up north, separated by a couple dozen canyon systems-"  
Dryd let a light grin come to him as Vilielmo twisted his face in horror at the realization. "If First Division falls, we're guaranteed to be next. The Leviathan's speed can hardly break twenty-five kilometers. My multitrack can only reach fifty. I have reports that say the Orks have vehicles which can push a hundred-twenty... we're as good as dead the instant that wave of green hits us!"  
Dryd immediately turned and hurried off towards the command vehicle; Vilielmo immediately gave chase. "Wait! Wait! I'll help, I'll help!"

Getting aboard without sidearm confiscation was distressingly simple enough for Dryd, as he was among the Tacticae staff. When he strode by the guards manning the doorway to the Lord General's private chambers, he received only a salute as acknowledgement of his presence.  
He pushed open the doors to Traevun's command room, which was directly connected to his personal suite, and therefore soundproofed for his comfort. As the Lord General rose to give his rehearsed greeting, Dryd shot him in the face with his laspistol.  
"By code twenty-seven of section four in Kuluthian Command Doctrine, I hearby name you unfit for duty, Traevun, and replace you." Dryd announced to the corpse hunched over the front of the holodisplay while the three senior Tacticae stared in horror.  
"Dryd, you idiot!" Tactician Montrutz screamed. "This is no Kuluthian campaign, and you are definitely no Commissar! This… this is treason!"  
"Shut up!" Dryd shouted, rushing to the position Traevun's body occupied. "Vilielmo, lock the door." He pushed the Lord General's body away while the Captain did as told; standing over the throne his usurped predecessor had been sitting in, he took note that the tacticians were growing uneasy. "Gentlemen, I hereby take command of this theater of war. Traevun is inept, we all knew this. I have done what the three of you should have done months before."  
"And what will you do now?"  
"Fix his mess." Dryd casually said, and began clacking away at the control sigils of the hololith.  
The latest combat reports had come in just as Dryd had shot the General: First Division was still anticipating resupply, which suggested Traevun had never sent an alert to them about the situation; the provisions delivery to Second Division had just left along a route which could easily be diverted to First Division.  
Dryd brought up the displacement for Second Division while Vilielmo trained his lasgun on the fidgeting Tactician Zarakz. Second Division was a force largely comprised of Dryd's home-force from Kuluth, and consisted of four battalions and one still fully-operational Regiment-equivalent - the 113th Legion. Second Division was reporting themselves to be at about half-full ammo capacity, which was substantially better than the near-zero rate in First Division.  
The number of Orks assaulting Second Division was less than half that hitting First Division; there was also a decent contingent of the Commissariat present among the Second Division, which would undoubtedly ensure proper firing discipline. Dryd jotted down his orders and handed them off to Tactician Tortin for relay to the supply convoy head.  
Tortin glared at him. "You can't be serious."  
"I am entirely serious. First Division needs that ammo, far more than Second Division does. If First falls, we all fall." Dryd sat back again with a light grunt, appreciating the comfort of the Lord General's seat. "Besides, I have faith in the Kuluthians. We're some of the best and brightest fighters in Calixis."

Among the 113th Boomslangs, a running tradition of drawing straws had grown for the process of choosing someone to update the Commissar on information from command… a duty which was to be undertaken even when she was at the front herself, gunning down the people who seemed to be faltering against the enemy, for reports had to be sent her way while she operated alone.  
Unfortunately for Corporal Domaenic Hyll, the latest to be selected for this task, the Commissar had once again opted to guide morale from as deep into lines as was possible without being directly in front of the Legion. In fact, the Commissar had actually pushed forward all nearby formations in order to wedge into the constantly pushing mass of Orks.  
Jumping between rocks and wrecked vehicles, dodging fire from easily-distracted big shootas which succeeded in killing all other nearby Legionaries but himself, Hyll inwardly cursed the Legion vox operators for being too fearful to stand in proximity to the Commissar – not that he could blame them. Nobody appreciated the Commissar, not even Legate Kaer. Word had passed through the barrack the last month that Kaer was trying to get a replacement dispatched for her.  
Fantasizing about the Commissar's removal had made Corporal Hyll so unaware that she nearly executed him with a blast from her plasma pistol, which contented itself by singing Domaenic's hair; he had managed to stumble upon his target, much closer to home than he had initially thought.  
Light arms-fire bounced off the Commissar's refractor field, causing its invisible bubble to shimmer. She stood in place, chainsword buzzing uselessly in her hand while she fired her plasma pistol at whatever greenskin was dumb enough to step out among the field of burnt out trukks and crudely-marked scrap - by this point the chainsword was completely useless, as the Orks had already seen enough of their fellows explode in bursts of superheated gas to conclude she was too crazy even for them. Why the Commissar was still here was beyond Hyll, as all that remained of the force she had moved up with was a pair of men, one of whom was lying against a sheet of metal dug into the dirt and was missing a leg.  
The plasma pistol coughed uselessly as a vague blue cloud of hellish vapor slipped from its mouth; the Commissar angrily ejected the hydrogen flask and, still holding the chainsword, snatched another canister from her greatcoat. At this point, she glanced over to acknowledge him. "What?" She snapped, immediately blasting the head off a charging Nob swinging a massive banner as a weapon – seeing the death of their immediate superior, the boyz nearby immediately turned and ran, howling panicked and terrified warning calls to allies. The area nearby seemed to quiet down to some extent with a thousand less voices screaming out "dakka dakka dakka" suddenly.  
"Info from HQ!" Hyll shouted as the noise began to pick up again. A grenade exploded close-by, showering the two with reddish-yellow dirt. "There won't be any resupply. First Division needs our ammo too much!"  
Commissar Raege acknowledged this by simply nodding, then returned to fire on whatever budged.  
Hyll stood expecting something for a few moments, until he realized there would be no reply. "Are you going to do anything in response to this report, Commissar?"  
He immediately regretted speaking, as Raege shot a glare at him that sent a severe chill down his spine. "You know what I'm going to do?" Raege bitterly asked, speaking almost too low to be heard over the shootas. "I'm going to charge!" She shrieked, swinging her chainsword towards the mess of smoking vehicles in front of her. "Charge!" She shouted around her, at men who did not exist any longer. She looked back at Hyll. "Go make the rounds. Tell the men to push forward against the xenos, or die in shame!"  
Hyll, wishing to be anywhere but near her, immediately turned and ran back to the lines. As he ran, he heard Raege yelling at the injured guardsman; not long after, he heard the painfully loud crack of a plasma ball meeting its target. He tried not to think about it, and carried out his duty.  
Over the next three hours of exhausting, confused forwards-then-backwards fighting until the Orks finally pulled away, the Legion expended the other half of that ammo reserve.

Little time passed before the Command Tacticae unit realized Dryd had them by the balls: He was essentially keeping the war from collapsing, which arguably was a boon unto the death of Traevun, and so had at least won over their temporary cooperation by pointing out the doom that overshadowed the force and threatened to destroy it if he did not persist in his plan… not to mention, he also had the guns in the room; worse for the tacticians, by carrying out his orders, they had condemned themselves in the eyes of the local Commissariat, which had proven time and again to be especially cruel and uniform in punishment.  
What they had not expected, however was that this very same Commissariat was already making plans to replace Traevun when Tactician Dryd had done so. In fact, a contingency was on its way to the command post in order to "discuss matters" with the General – Dryd recognized the euphemisms all too-well.  
He began to sweat as he read Commissar General Vaan Huyster's announcement. He shakily put the message down, and glanced around the room. The realization had only just dawned on him that he was going to die for this; he had overlooked it before, perhaps in anger – now he was going to pay for his pride.  
Now visibly twitching, he looked to each of the tacticians at the table. "General Traevun is currently sleeping. He handed command over to us. Understood?"  
Each of the men hastily shook their heads, for they stood to lose them.  
Dryd breathed deeply. "Good." He said softly, and dragged the General's corpse into the private chambers. He would at least make sure he took the honor of winning the war for Urgik V before he lost his profession.

For some odd reason, the Orks had seen fit to pull out of the assault just as the damage they were doing to the Legion's position exponentiated. Further east, other regiments were still reported as fighting; the muzzle-flash and las-beams pierced the darkness further along the steppe wall – it soon became clear to the Boomslangs that their reprieve was likely to be extremely brief.  
Corporal Hyll slogged his way back to his centuria's billet; the desperation of the fighting had left him stuck in his position as Commissar Raege's messenger and trumpet boy - all things done, he was thoroughly exhausted from dodging bullets and yelling orders over the screaming horde. Damn the Orks, if the Legion was hit again, he would just sleep through the fighting.  
He stumbled through the canvas flap at one end of the tent, and could tell immediately that there were several faces missing from the 7th Centuria - several very familiar faces. From the way things looked, his entire contubernal had been taken; that meant reassignment, which in-turn meant all sorts of inspections and questions.  
Before the Corporal could even put his head against his pillow and damn the woman he placed responsible for the deaths, she strolled into the billet. Guardsmen in the process of unfastening their gear immediately began reequipping so as to make themselves look orderly for the Commissar. Every Guardsman got up and stood before their bunk, and those who were already sleeping were hastily woken up by the next closest Legionary; everyone knew what happened when the Commissar caught a dozer or untidy uniform during inspection.  
Raege took a few steps through their number, each Guardsman she passed working his hardest to stand tall and keep a blank face; her scowl seemed to deepen with each step she took.  
The Commissar shook her head slowly. "Disgraceful..." She mumbled.  
Hyll braced himself for the coming tirade.  
"Each of you is an insult to the Guard!" She screeched, ushering forth pained winces with her high pitch. "To the Imperium! The Orks got away, and now, our comrades get to suffer them," she grimaced childishly, "because you didn't want to push any harder. And now, what should I hear, but that many of you want to retreat? Retreat, they say!" She banged a balled fist against a support pylon. "That does not happen! Retreat means cowardice, cowardice means treachery!"  
How Hyll wished to snap at her, to point out the obvious. The last guy who had called her out on her unreasonableness had wound up a splatter against the Centurion's sleeve.  
Ironic then that Centurion Daemas stepped forward. "Commissar," she acidly began, immediately drawing Raege's attention, "you do understand, surely, that the entirety of this centuria, probably the rest of the Legion, is without munitions. Had we charged, we would have been fighting the orks with _bayonets,_ and hurting them like _that_ is next to impossible! If we don't pull back now-"  
Such a simple statement, but instantly Raege had her on the billet's dirt floor with her spare bolt pistol out – the plasma pistol had overheated and exploded from sustained fire, but had left the Commissar unharmed. An expression of ferocity fitting of her namesake crept across Raege's face. "Was that protest of my judgment I heard, Sergeant?"  
Lauryn Daemas grunted and gagged under the Commissar's chokehold. "Centurion." She wryly corrected; she found the bolt pistol's fat barrel jammed against her eye for it.  
"By the Emperor, you'll learn discipline, you disgusting rat!" Without a word more, without a sentence, Raege pulled the trigger…  
And Daemas blinked.  
Raege pulled the weapon's trigger again, frustratedly growling. A few of the Legionaries stepped forward to cautiously see what had happened, but Hyll realized immediately:  
The Commissar had depleted her own ammunition stocks.  
Daemas began to heartily cackle underneath the Commissar's grip. "Talk about stupid! I can't wait until the Legate hears about this!"  
Slowly, Raege began to join in the laughter, immediately silencing the Centurion. Her frown had contorted into a demented smile. She lifted away the pistol from Daemas's eye, and dropped it to the side. She reached down and slipped the Centurion's long-knife from its sheath.  
Then she jammed the blade down into Lauryn's eye. She withdrew the blade from the bleeding gash, then plunged it in again, and again, and again, until she had pulped the Centurion's face. She lurched back, spun around, and leapt at the closest Legionary, jamming the knife in between his ribs before hacking into the next one. Several Legionaries moved to try to stop her, but quickly were overpowered.  
The 7th Centuria promptly erupted into havoc.

"She's crazy! She's fickin' crazy!"  
Raege pounced the runner, jamming the long-knife against the back of his neck. A Legionary from the 6th Centuria billet stepped out to see what the commotion was.  
"Traitors!" The Commissar hissed, and promptly charged him.

An alert rune lit up on the display; Dryd pressed it, and an emergency report from the 113th Legion, Second Division appeared. Dryd narrowed his eyes as he hastily glanced over the words.  
Quite suddenly, he cracked his fists against the table, causing the holo-display to flicker.  
"What the fick?" Dryd screamed.  
The door pad immediately chimed, drawing the Tactician's panicked and frenzied gaze.  
"Commissars Horkin and Taloy here." Crackled the panel vox. "We need to speak with you, Lord General."  
Dryd began to tremble uncontrollably.  
"Lord General? We're opening the door…"  
Sure enough, the doors opened. A grizzled, scarred and augmetically-repaired man stepped in, followed by a shorter, white-haired woman; both wore near-matching black greatcoats, and both adorned their crimson sashes across their chests.  
"Where is Lord Traevun?" The woman demanded. "We must speak to him about the mess in Second Division, we just heard about it from a logistician in the hall."  
"Ah," Dryd, now standing, stuttered, "he's… he's asleep in his quarters, Sir and Lady."  
"Then wake him up." The man growled, the metallic twang to his voice extremely prominent. "Doesn't he realize his position as General of this war is on the line here? How can he be sleeping?"  
"Wake him up." The woman impatiently ordered.  
"I'm afraid I cannot do that." Dryd blurted. "The General cannot be disturbed-"  
"He sure as shit can be disturbed, and I'll show you." Taloy grunted, and stepped over to Dryd's side of the display, her movements tracked by the seated tacticians the entirety of the brisk pace. "Is this his room?" She asked, gesturing to the door Traevun's body resided in.  
Dryd gulped. "Yes."  
Commissar Taloy tore open the door, and stepped in. "General! Get up!" She yelled.  
A few seconds later, Taloy stepped out again, bolt pistol drawn and pointing at Dryd. "Explain yourself." She ordered; Horkin was pulling out his bolt pistol and running to see what had so upset his associate.  
Dryd's eyes flickered between the bolt pistol and Taloy's tauntingly relaxed expression.  
In a brisk second, Taloy turned the bolt pistol away from the Tactician, and blasted out Captain Vilielmo's lower face with a shot; content with the effect that the slumping corpse had, she aimed again at the Tactician in front of her.  
"Explain, now."  
And that was the end of Tyreon Dryd's career with the Imperial Guard.

Soon after Dryd was shoved into a lander, the situation in Second Divison worsened: Smelling a good fight, the Orks renewed their attack on the 113th Legion's position even as Commissar Raege was being restrained; the panic she had caused left the Legion unprepared, and Legate Kaer soon died with much of the rest of the Boomslangs.  
For killing General Traevun, Dryd was thrown on a prison world at the rimward edge of Calixis and sentenced to death; after killing one-hundred forty-three of her own Legionaries, Raege was sentenced to exile by tribunal and sent to work as a teacher at the secluded Schola Progenium on Heterodyne.  
Tyreon Dryd heard all about the Commissar's exploits in his trial, and was reported to have cursed her all the way to his cell.  
Over the course of the tribunal, Conrad Raege never once heard of what had happened at Command.


	21. Chapter 17

**XVII**  
**COUNTDOWN**  
_"The end is nigh."_  
_- Magos Errant Thoromir Teest_

Tyreon Dryd awoke with a heavy yawn. He rolled over, slipped out of bed, and stretched out his stiff joints, not particularly interested in the largely-uncovered woman lying beside him.  
His tired senses automatically guiding him out of bed, he unceremoniously left his sleeping partner slumbering. The Tactician rubbed his eyelids as he reached for the morning mug of recaf laid out alongside his fresh-pressed uniform atop the dresser, then promptly squinted again at Lady Carthine Laelian's naked backside. He quietly considered her curvature – slender, yet well-rounded in all the right places, if a bit firm – before slipping out of his bedchambers, not willing to bother with his uniform in his lethargic and apathetic state.  
Colonel Spiridon was waiting for him as he entered into his study in a heavy gown. The TASO adjutant rose to attention, and Dryd only put him at-ease after he had sat down behind his work-desk. "What have you got for me?" He softly mumbled as he brought his drink to his mouth.  
Spiridon sat down across from him, and put down a data card before the Tactician. Dryd eyed it for a moment, before glaring at the Colonel with his groggy expression; then the Tactician sighed, and took out his data-slate and inserted the card. He sat forward as he read the file with some vague appearance of indifference, smacking his lips occasionally.  
When he finished, Dryd sat back and let the data slate clatter against the polished wood surface of his desk. "So," he rasped, "the Eldar are stinging us again."  
"Yes Sir. I saw what had been done to the bodies. I think it rather safe to say this means they're helping Raege," Spiridon explained. "Perhaps we should send this along to the Inquisition-"  
"That would not be a good idea, Pavew," Dryd deadpanned, wagging the index finger of the hand gripping the mug. "We already agreed to make no further persecution against Raege. Any further efforts will have to be in secret… and the Inquisition must not be allowed to know of this. It'll only cause us more trouble."  
"Then, I trust you read the intel report?"  
"Yes. And I want efforts doubled in the way of that particular operation. I'd like to know why the Commissar is that far out." Dryd started to bring up his mug again, but put it back down, slouched to the side, and began to rub his chin as he concentrated on the personnel file to his left. "If she's meeting up with her unit's ship, she could have chosen a planet closer to Scintilla, rather than waste so much time going towards the Expanse…"  
The Tactician looked back up at Colonel Spiridon. "Keep me posted. Have Kotryna's Cell keep a close eye out for Raege," he ordered.  
The Colonel nodded. "And, Sir, one last thing..." He glanced over at the half-open door to Dryd's bedroom, and then leaned towards the Tactician. "I can confirm your suspicions. She's an Inquisitor," he whispered.  
Dryd looked at the door, then took a sip of recaf. "Very good. Please, arrange an accident for her, then."  
As Colonel Spiridon left, Dryd took a book from his shelf, sat down again, and began reading. Raege was somewhere else in the Sector, and all he could do – all he was obliged to do – was sit and wait for her trail to reemerge.

While orbital reentry had never been much more than simply tolerable for Raege, she found that the atmosphere of Faldon Kise made the tremble of the craft around her hellish. Such was the reputation of the world, a place soon to rival Gunpoint and Klybo in the annals of Calixian tragedy.  
A single cycle between day and night on Faldon Kise took a full Terran year. When settlers came to the planet in the early years of M.40, they had found a world where the weather consisted almost purely of gale-force winds, with blinding snow blowing across the entirety of the dark side; the side of the planet exposed to the agonizing light of the bloated star was constantly subjected to scorching temperatures. To worsen the condition for those who lived upon the bleak surface of Faldon Kise, twice every Kisian cycle was a near-catastrophic event, where the moon traveled close and caused traumatic events across the planet's surface.  
Few would have surrendered the relative comforts of worlds like Scintilla or Reth for so brutal a life; yet the settlers had been as determined as had those before them, the brave humans who had settled such horrible balls of rock as Barsapine or Nocturne. For a time the colonies on Faldon Kise had stuck it out, defying the uncaring politics on nearby Malfi which denied them additional funding to uplift their state of misery, and the uncaring nature of physics. The struggle of the people of Faldon Kise was admirable, and to some it was inspirational: more than one penthrift novelist had written works of praise for the Kisian condition - here was a world where man was pushing onwards in spite of everything the galaxy threw at him.  
Of course, here was a dying world.  
The people of Faldon Kise were simple, and given the planet's propensity for destroying extensive settlements, the number of large-scale planet-side communities had never been high, and so the world had never been deemed worthy of the presence of a Mechanicus authority on the art of astromancy.  
When the world attracted the admiration of Magos Errant Thoromir Teest, however, the Tech-Priest's calculations discovered that Faldon Kise's moon had been in a decaying orbit since the colonization… and the next year would be the last before the moon finally clipped the world in its orbit.  
Thus Faldon Kise was made aware of its terminal illness. Whoever could escape left; much of the colonial populace, however, was too poor to get away.  
Raege – nor Levy, apparently – had been prepared for this development: the discovery of Kise's fate had come but a few months before the date Magos Teest had determined would be its final instance as a hospitable world; the glancing collision would incinerate the atmosphere, and would damage the Kisian moon's orbit such that the next pass would destroy both bodies. Worst of all, Raege had arrived amidst the final hours.  
While the Commissar had wanted to evaluate the status of her crew before heading down to Faldon Kise, there was no time. Under any normal circumstances, she would have simply abandoned the prospect of searching for the Dread-Master here, but during the wait for Raege the _Ave Maria's_ bridge astropath, Mirrielly Androkulth, had located a place in the largest settlement which she had first referred to as "festering with taint" and then elaborated to be a clear hideout of the ruinous powers.  
Fearing – knowing – there would never be another opportunity quite like that, Raege had grabbed as many people as she could, and set off with instructions in-hand from Levy on landing procedures.  
Shaking about in the undampened cargo bay's passenger seats, Raege looked over the faces: Major Lockwood, Jacobi, Freuden, Firch, and then Nada. Small, efficient – and with the Culexus, devastating to whatever warp-trickery Rymen Valendr might have at his disposal. Every member of the team had been sealed in their suits and equipped with some form of rebreather – the air on the surface of Faldon Kise had been rendered toxic by mass-volcanic activity.  
The clock was ticking: by Teest's divinations, the collision would occur in less than seven hours.  
And so Commissar Raege dived into what she knew was the dumbest stunt she had ever pulled.

The ground shuddered.  
That in itself was nothing particularly new; for as long as Braedr had lived, there had been two constant routines to life on Faldon Kise: the weather, and the tremors.  
The thing was, though, Braedr had never experienced anything quite like this earthquake in his seventeen nights of life on Faldon Kise. The plating throughout the dockyard screeched as the building's foundation shifted.  
Beyond the safety of the dockyard walls, the sights were nothing like anything Braedr had ever experienced, either: the winds howled with a fury unmatched by even the strongest gust of the night months, and the sky was colored with shades of red that he had never seen before.  
He supposed his grandfather was blaming this on the Commissar, half a sub-sector away. After all, his grandfather blamed everything on the Commissar. The Commissar was the reason they could not go home. The Commissar was the reason he'd gotten that nasty scar that ran down his neck to his chest. The Commissar was the reason the sun was even hotter than it was last day. Grandpapa Dom would cry himself to sleep whimpering, "It's all the Commissar's fault."  
He had been that way, blaming everything on this mysterious Commissar, ever since Grandmamma Elyn had died - that was the Commissar's fault, too, incidentally.  
Of course, now Braedr jokingly mused to himself that what was happening to the world might be the Commissar's fault as well. As soon as word had gotten to Helixa City that the world was going to end, there had been a mass-rush to get off-planet. Braedr's family had been too poor to buy tickets off-world – Grandpapa Dom had spent what little money given to him as compensation for his service to make it as far as Faldon Kise, and then he and his son had spent their entire lives just making the money needed to subsist below the mini-spires of Helixa City.  
Then, a month previous, as the earthquakes began to intensify, a strange man in a beaked mask paid a visit to his family's hab. When Braedr returned home from his post at the PDF center, the man was sitting at the family table, and offered to get the rest of the family set up well-enough back on their ancestral home of Kuluth if Braedr would stay behind until some time during the final days and follow some simple instructions. Braedr had had no choice, but he had not been anticipating to stay behind until the very final hours of Faldon Kise.  
That was also the Commissar's fault, apparently.  
Klaxons went off all over the empty hangar bay; the intervox unit began listing off automated alerts, but its amplitude and the resulting echoes rendered the words completely incomprehensible.  
"Brace for pressure change!" The masked man barked – himself a fellow wearing an ornate rebreather which hid his face, causing Braedr to suspect him to be the same fellow from the month before. Braedr obeyed him by clinging to a guard rail, and sure enough, when the bay door cracked open, the sulfur-laden air outside rushed in, creating a gust within the bay. The one grace of the fellow was that he had been kind enough to issue Braedr and the remnants of his PDF squad who stayed behind fancy hermetic armor of a quality none of the poor frontier-boys had never seen before, as the air was both toxic to the lungs and corrosive to exposed flesh or cloth.  
Moments later, an Arvus light freighter flew in, and the doors shut behind it. The craft slowly came to a stop over a landing pad, and then put down with all the grace of a tumbling rock. A few bright sparks shot off a panel over one of the thrusters as the machinery slid open to cool down. Before the rear hatch opened, the masked man was already moving to the craft, barking orders over vox for a servitor to bring in a repair kit. Meanwhile, nobody seemed to care that the environmental alert was droning on about how the bay was inhospitable.  
Something about the hangar became unpleasant and miserable as from the cargo compartment of the lighter stepped first a trio clad in jury rig-sealed Storm Trooper carapace; next was a shorter man dressed in hermetic armor similar to Braedr's but clearly heavier – it appeared to have been assembled from stripped-down parts of a void suit.  
The next person off was a real show: dressed in only a tight synskin bodyglove and a freakish skull-mask, she left little to the imagination; metal wires looped from seemingly random points along her robust body, while a number of plugged cables ran from the base of her neck to her helmet. Simply looking at her made the skin crawl underneath Braedr's suit.  
Last, it was another peculiarity that stepped off. Wearing a hermetic hardsuit with even less plating than her companions was a woman slightly smaller than the skull-masked one. Gauntleting one of her arms was a heavy-looking red power fist which did not compliment the fresh grey paint of the light plating across the vital parts of her body; holstered on her right hip was an autopistol with an almost boxlike build, and meshed to her belt was a number of magazine pouches.  
The masked man who had brought the PDF to the hangar stepped up to her and saluted. "How long will repairs take?" She asked, her mouth visibly moving behind her helmet's visor.  
"Probably an hour, judging from what I saw," the masked man told her.  
The woman sighed. "Alright. Take it back up once it's done, and have another craft sent down as soon as you're up. Make sure that whatever you send has proper magnetic shielding, the Tech-Priests estimate that the current plating's quality will just fry the entire craft if conditions worsen as expected."  
The masked man nodded, and shouted to the servitor that entered the hangar pushing a tool-cart – the cyborg's skin was visibly smoking, bubbling and spitting across his exposed flesh. The organic parts of the servitor's brain had gone into shock and shut down by the time it reached its destination.  
From the rear hatch came another individual – the pilot, judging from the simplicity of her burnt-orange bodysuit. "Commissar," she said, attracting the attention of the whole group of arrivals, "need I remind you that you will have literally no way to communicate with us once we leave? You should set a meeting place."  
Commissar. The word stung at the back of Braedr's head. He had never seen a Commissar before – was the Commissar one of the new arrivals, or the masked man?  
The grey-clad woman spoke. "Send a craft down to this same bay then, Iya. We'll be back here in about two hours, hopefully."  
_The Commissar,_ Braedr realized.  
The Commissar looked back at the PDF troopers. "Why are these people still on this planet?"  
The masked man raised a finger. "They are here to provide additional manpower to your objective," he explained.  
The Commissar shook her head. "There's too many, they'll just slow us down," she told him. "Send them up to the _Ave Maria._ We'll keep them there for a bit, and then decide what to do with them."  
That last sentence made Braedr incredibly uncomfortable, for some reason.  
"I do, however, have need of a guide." The Commissar looked over the PDF remnants; one of her Storm Trooper companions crossed their arms. "Who here would be best with directing me around the immediate area?"  
Braedr sighed with relief, as there was no chance he would be chosen: Big Regar was the most efficient when it came to navigating the urban jungle of Helixa; failing him, there was Makir, or Kirl to show the group around. Braedr was simply not good with directions.  
"Braedr knows the place best," Big Regar said, causing Braedr's eyes to snap wide open in his skull; he stared at Big Regar through his visor-plate with disbelief.  
"Yeah, Braedr's definitely the best," Makir agreed.  
"Oh yeah, definitely," Kirl added.  
"He's got it down like the back of his hand," Little Namen said.  
The whole of them pointed at Braedr and mumbled in agreement like a herd. Braedr's gaze dropped to the floor. "Yeah, fick you, Regar," he hissed under his breath.  
"Ah." The masked man stood straight. "Trooper Braedr Hyll. Local PDF. Braedr, this is Commissar Raege."  
Remembering himself, Braedr saluted. Curiously, the Commissar stared at him for a few seconds. "At ease," she eventually said.  
"Very well, we shall get to work on repairing this craft. Best of luck to you, Commissar," the masked man said, and moved to take the dead servitor's tool cart.  
Raege stepped forward, motioning for Braedr to follow. "The place is somewhere in the D-Sub-Block, in Kintros Block. I want you to be careful Hyll, because we're going after some men who are well-armed and very dangerous."  
Braedr's head was now swirling, and a terrible nausea came over him - this was most definitely the Commissar's fault.

Outside the port, the shape of Helixa was quite unlike anything Braedr had ever seen before that day.  
The sky was a deep red stained with yellow; volcanic ash blotted out much of the rising sun, but still the air was lit by the radiance of lava flows which had pressed their way up to the surface. In the far distance, lightning flashed almost constantly. A fierce, sporadic wind was blowing across the city, blasting every surface with sulfurous ash. Plumes of gas rose from the streets below the group.  
"Lead the way," Raege said to Braedr. Lacking any choice, the boy did so, and took them across the wide crosswalk to a platform connecting with the final stories of a hab building.  
"Where exactly is this Kintros Block?" Lockwood asked, scanning over the area with her hellgun aimed out in front of her.  
"It's… ah, it's about a klick from here. D-Block is on one of the lower sections," Braedr explained. Realizing the mistake, he shook his head. "Wait, no, D-Block is the northeastern corner of it."  
"So it's the farthest away from us?" Jacobi groaned.  
"It'll take about an hour to get there if we use these walkways," Freuden noted. "At least another hour to search around, and then just under another hour to get back here. You sure there's no faster way?"  
"As far as I know - no," Braedr told them. He had never really passed through the area often, and so only knew a few obvious routes around the region.  
"We need to hurry. Travel between the surface and orbit is supposed to become impossible some time in the final five hours."  
The Commissar's words struck Braedr – he finally began to appreciate the likelihood that he was going to die.  
Somehow, the Commissar must have noticed his rising apprehension, as she placed a gauntlet on his shoulder plate.  
"Calm down. We aren't dying here," she said, and then moved on ahead. "Jacobi, you take point. Lockwood, keep an eye on those corners. I don't doubt Valendr's going to have something jump us."  
As the Guardsmen moved in proper discipline, Braedr noticed something peculiar about the Commissar's hardsuit:  
On the face of Raege's right shoulder plate was a crudely-stenciled white nail-driven skull.

The Dread-Master slept.  
He had been sleeping ever since he had arrived at the sanctum. They had him hooked to a life sustainer unit and tended him at all hours, for in body he slumbered.  
Yet his mind – deep within his roiling subconscious, his mind was ablaze with activity.  
The Great Conspirator came to him in his dreams; all He did was laugh and laugh and laugh at Valendr, as though the Dread-Master had humiliated himself. Perhaps, in some way, he had.  
Yet everything went as He planned.  
The Changer of Ways still laughed even as the Dread-Master awoke. His vision was hazy, sensitive with disuse, but he could make out the black and red-mottled armor of the Gore-Demagogue towering over him.  
"You wake, my Liege," the Demagogue announced. "All goes as planned."  
"All goes as planned," Valendr said, sitting up. "What troubles you?"  
"Our sentries report a group of soldiers is approaching the sanctum."  
"Impossible. Is this the day of days?"  
"It is indeed."  
Valendr glanced around - the heretek-priests were scurrying about, preparing his sustainer unit for storage. Valendr reached out with his mind, but could find nothing in the city which might be perceived as a threat, save the roaming abandoned animals and a cluster of humans at a nearby port.  
"I know what you are thinking, and I must warn you they are using some manner of arcana to prevent us from detecting them."  
"A null field," Valendr mused.  
"She is among them."  
Valendr's expression froze, and he slowly looked up at the Demagogue.  
"The foulest lapdog Conrad Raege is amongst them, the sentries say."  
"Why do we remain here? Did I not give orders to abandon this place if we were discovered?"  
The Demagogue lowered his head. "I attempted to open the Webway portal just moments ago, but it did not respond."  
Rymen Valendr looked around the room, and then let his eyes rest upon the doorway. Once the Gore-Demagogue had stopped speaking, the only sounds in his head were the distant echoes of the Great Conspirator's laughter.  
"Send forth the Maleficir," the Dread-Master said. "If it fails to kill her, we are all damned."  
"As you will it," the Gore-Demagogue said. "All goes as planned."  
Valendr watched the Traitor Marine leave, the pointed tips of his Crozius bobbing with his step.  
The laughter persisted in the Dread-Master's ears. "All goes as planned…"

The screens in the bay control tower lit up. Across each display scrolled the words "REMOTE ACCESS" as the cogitators booted up; the bright-lamps throughout the hangar snapped on, then the activation rituals began to awaken the spirits guiding the maintenance suites – such was the delicacy of awakening the Maleficir, for any participation by living beings would be disastrous.  
The servos of the fuel injectors twisted, releasing their grip on the hull of the Maleficir, retracting into their dormancy cradles just as the gun-cutter's thrusters came alive. Entombed within the belly of the fuselage, the Maleficir's heart beat with renewed life.  
The hangar shutters slipped open, allowing in the harsh air from outside – the foul taste on the gun-cutter's sensorium snapped the Maleficir into full consciousness; it flexed the axial motors on its wing-mounts, gazing out through the eyes of the nose-gun's pict recorder at the edges of its oubliette. The instructor cables relayed command impulses to the Maleficir's mind, whispers edging it forth from its prison to test its mettle, taunting it, agitating it.  
The gun-cutter's rear-engines tilted backward into a sharp incline to send it upwards, but failed to get enough airflow to produce lift; in frustration, the Maleficir turned all of its thrusters forward, and rocketed off the platform, tearing away from the numerous still-attached diagnostor cables. The cutter's sheer weight and lack of speed combined to cause it to plummet, until the Maleficir attempted once again to fire the engines in take-off mode, this time succeeding just as it clipped the flagpole on a low-lying building. Each of the craft's six engines shrieked with a renewed life as the Maleficir rose up, above the tight confines of the hive below, and flew on to its target with an animal haste, for within its tomb the Maleficir hungered for carnage.

A tremor struck, and the wind picked up a new ferocity. Raege found herself having difficulty keeping on her feet as the force against her doubled. Dirt and soot blasted her visor, blinding her; she growled, and wiped at it with her hand, leaving streaks of grime trailing the edge of where she touched.  
"This isn't going to be good if we're attacked," she said, looking back to Braedr as she shielded her face with her arm. "Is there any interior route nearby that we can take?"  
Hyll's mind began to race for any string of information he might know about the area – usually, a block had numerous interior crosswalks for the months of atmospheric turmoil the moon's proximity brought, each block's maintenance system was planned uniformly, which meant that the passages in Kintros Block were identical in layout to the ones in his home…  
He looked out, searching for any analogous structures in the buildings… and sure enough, he caught one. "There," he said, pointing off in the distance.  
Raege looked, cupping the side of her helmet with her hand: sticking out from a roof some fifty meters off, connected by thin walkways was a shape recognizable as a bunker, strapped under the ribs of an Imperial chapel's buttresses.  
"A local chapel. There's one on every Block. It's connected to the rest of the area." Braedr looked back to the Commissar. "That'll work, yeah?"  
"There's nothing that doesn't require us go so far off?"  
Braedr paused for a moment, and contemplated the ethics of telling a lie over revealing he had no idea where he was going – an expectant look back from the Commissar hastened his decision. "No, none here."  
"Then let's get a move on," Raege said, and stepped forward. "I'll take point. Braedr, you move up with me, keep a couple meters back."  
Somehow, the informality encouraged the PDF trooper; inversely, it concerned Freuden, who glanced at Lockwood in confusion, who then looked back at Jacobi. Hyll followed close to the Commissar while the others concluded they would be unable to determine the cause of the slip in the Commissar's verbiage, and simply moved in close and remained mindful of their surroundings.  
Crossing to the roof acting as junction to the chapel and three other buildings yielded no harm, but as Raege stepped out onto the crosswalk she heard the damning scream of jet engines.  
The Commissar's reaction was instantaneous: she glanced up at the sky, before realizing this useless given the lack of visibility; she then dropped to the ground. "Gunship, get down!" She shouted over vox. Lockwood and Firch had hardly needed the instruction, and were already on the ground by the time the Maleficir made its first pass; overhead the behemoth of a gun-cutter fired a long streak of heavy stubber rounds across the rooftop plating, grazing Jacobi's ankle as he tried to duck down – the Kasrkin immediately howled over the vox as the air began to eat away at his leg.  
The Maleficir banked right, then angled its engines for an immediate spin-around. Raege rolled over onto her back to look up at the gun-cutter as it opened up with its nose-mounted autocannon in a strafing hover, ripping holes through the rooftop. The baleful chorus of the six jets lowered in pitch as it slowed down and dropped altitude, beginning to circle around to get a better shot at the Commissar and Hyll, the two of whom were just on the edge of the crosswalk to the chapel.  
Freuden and Lockwood opened fire on the Maleficir with their hellguns, keeping low behind solid guard rails while Firch looked for a chance to slip into the open to grab Jacobi; as Freuden leapt up to fire another burst, one of the gunship's heavy stubbers, attached to a stabilizer hardpoint, swung backwards on its axis and fired at him – one round put a dent in his breastplate, while another tore into his shoulder plate and ripped the seal, causing him to hiss and swear as the flesh bubbled.  
"Lockwood!" Raege shouted, ignoring Leebhr's yowling. "Run! You and Firch, grab Jacobi and get into one of those buildings! Freuden, Nada, you go too!"  
"What about you, Commissar?" Lockwood said.  
"We're going for the chapel," Raege told her. "We've got no choice!"  
"We'll try to regroup!" Lockwood cried, slipping down to get ahold of Jacobi, who was curled up and clutching his leg in a desperate attempt to cover the decaying wound.  
"Shit, Major!" The downed Kasrkin painfully snapped. "Can't… reach my… medikit!"  
"Just hold on!" Lockwood shouted, pulling him away by the collar-locks on his armor; Nada had already slipped by through a hatch behind them.  
"Get ready to run!" Raege shouted to Hyll, who was on his belly covering his head. Raege got up and sprinted, checking back to make sure Braedr was following…  
The trooper was still prone.  
"Braedr!" The Commissar screamed, and immediately ran back to him as the Maleficir repositioned to avoid hitting a construction lattice. Raege knelt by him, shaking his shoulder, glancing constantly to watch as the Maleficir's guns traced a path towards the two.  
Raege clamped down on Hyll's arm with her de-energized power fist, and dragged him up to his feet as she ran back towards the chapel. "I'm not leaving you to die, trooper, so get a move on!" She shouted, and pulled Braedr along until he finally decided to start moving. The Maleficir opened fire on them again, its autocannon ripping apart the crosswalk as it traveled up towards the two. Raege, having released her grip on Braedr, activated the disruptor field on her power fist, and punched her way through the reinforced door on the front of the bunker, then let Hyll in before her. An autocannon round impacted at Raege's feet, knocking her back through the doorway, forcing her to scamper the rest of the way to safety on her hands and knees.


End file.
